Alla Famiglia!
by Tawariell Saerwen
Summary: Sundays have always been important to both Italy and Romano. It was the one day out of the week they spent time together. What they did together has never been shared to both Germany and Spain and they have never been included. A scheme has been devised to find out how the Italy Brothers spend their time together which may soon jeopardize their relationships. GerIta and Spamano.
1. Chapter 1

**Alla Famiglia!**

By Tawariell Saerwen

Author's Note: The title of my story means "To Family!" in Italian. This story contains GerIta and Spamano. It is rated T for Romano's language and some violence. This story is a combination of romance, drama, adventure and humor. I hope that you enjoy what I have written!

I do not own the rights to the characters of the Hetalia franchise. You know this. I know this. Thanks.

1/28/13 Update: Cover fan art for Alla Famiglia! done by my friend Amanda! The link to the fan art cover can found on my fanfiction homepage, as well as a link to my friend's dA, Nobody Studios.

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**Chapter 1**

Germany hated Sundays.

It was the one day out of the week that he personally did not look forward to because he would become temporarily separated from his beloved Italy for a couple of hours. He understood the drill of things as to why Sundays were particularly important to Italy; Sundays are precious to Italians because they love to spend the day with their families. Every Sunday morning was the same routine: Italy would rise out of bed, freshen up, wear the most attractive suit, tie and shoes from his wardrobe and rush out their house at the crack of dawn to meet up with his older brother, Romano. The first thing that the brothers did together was attending the first Mass at the Roman Catholic Church. Afterwards, they both went to a restaurant to eat breakfast together.

What they did after breakfast has remained a mystery to Germany. That was the only information that Italy has ever shared with him. After all these years of living together, he still had no clue as to how Italy has spent the rest of his Sunday with Romano every weekend. Nor has he ever asked. Germany greatly respected Italy's traditions. The thought of even prying into his partner's privacy over this was insulting to the proud German. So, as always, Germany has remained completely devoted to his darling Italian by allowing him to be away from home for so many hours, without questions, and he would loyally stay behind at their estate and wait for his better half to come home.

Their home every Sunday lingered in an eerie stillness that haunted the various rooms of the house with the exception of the presence of their various pets. Nevertheless, sometimes the silence was too much for Germany to adjust to and he desperately tried to find ways to end his personal purgatory. Turning on the television helped sometimes. So did turning on the radio and the computer. He would even have them all on at once just to allow the noise pollution to consume the quietness of their estate. But it was all in vain for nothing could ever, EVER replace the contagious laughter, the overly dramatic cries and the gentle, intimate coos of affection of his sweetheart.

"It's almost 11 o'clock," Germany stated sternly to himself as he fried up some homemade potato pancakes on the kitchen stove. The sizzling sounds of the pancakes being cooked in the pan temporarily echoed in the noiseless kitchen. He sighed as he stared up at the microwave clock above the stove. "Oh, how I wish I could make the hours fly by. I'm so damned bored."

Germany turned a knob and the stove went off. He served himself the piping hot potato pancakes onto a dish. He let out another sigh and opened a cabinet and pulled out a container of cinnamon applesauce. He lazily scooped out the contents onto his dish until sudden pressure made it gave way and causing the majority of the applesauce to spill onto his plate and drowning his potato pancakes. Ironically unfazed by what just happened, Germany dejectedly plopped the almost empty container on top of his meal. He focused his stare downward to notice that he was suddenly in good company. He was completely surrounded by his cherished animals; his German bred dogs Aster, Berlitz and Blackie and two lovable cats, Germouser and Gino.

"Come and join me," Germany softly muttered as one hand patted each dog's head while he picked up the warm plate and slowly walked into the dining room. The animals followed him into the dining room. The dogs sat around Germany's chair while Germouser and Gino both jumped on top of the table in unison. Sitting at his usual spot at the head of the table, Germany picked up his fork with his right hand and stabbed one of his pancakes. His left hand rested under his chin.

Germany split apart the drenched pancake and stabbed a piece of it with his fork. He inserted the food into his mouth and slowly chewed the soggy contents. "Not bad. Not bad at all. It's actually tastes pretty good this way," he said out loud as he stared at his Golden Retriever, Aster who turned his head slightly sideways and smiled with his tongue sticking out. He focused his attention to his German Shepherd Blackie and Doberman Pincher Berlitz. "I wish that Italy was here," Germany uttered as he petted each dog's head, "I wish that I could share this meal with him...even though I know he'd pretend to like it!"

Suddenly, Germany's iPhone began to ring from the side pocket of his pant uniform. He reached down and dug into his pocket to retrieve his iPhone. As he pulled it out, his ringtone, which was a German military march, seemed to bellow in the dining room, causing him to become startled. He read the caller I.D. SPAIN on the screen.

"Spain? I haven't spoken to him in weeks. I wonder what's up with him?" He answers the call. "Guten Tag, Spain."

_"Buenas Tardes, Germany! How are you doing today?"_ Spain answered in his usual happy tone.

"I'm fine. I'm just eating lunch."

_"Me too!"_

There is a long pause between them until Spain asks a question to fill the void._"So…uh, what are you eating?"_

Germany rolled his eyes. "Just some potato pancakes I made and applesauce. It's my own recipe," he stated with a hint of pride in his tone, "You see, I take four whole potatoes and one whole onion and I prepare them by peeling off the skins – "

"Uh, yeah, that sounds really delicious," Spain interrupted as his tone of voice indicated that he was uninterested. Germany quickly took offense to Spain's interjected response. "Oh, well excuse me! But you're the one who asked what I was eating –"

_"Lo siento! (I'm sorry) I didn't mean to be rude! It's just that your meal sounded really bland to me!"_ Spain hurriedly answered.

Germany's became agitated by Spain's response and his right eyebrow began to twitch. He sighed heavily into the receiver and finally spoke. "Why did you call me?" he asked.

Spain let out a soft chuckle over the receiver, which caused Germany to be irritated even more. _"You know, I just wanted to say hello and have a nice conversation with you!"_ There was a small pause until Spain continued. _"Have you spoken to Italy today?"_

"Nein, I haven't…but then again I rarely hear from him on Sundays. He's busy doing his thing with his brother," Germany answered as he broke off a piece of potato pancake and fed it to Aster who was whining for food. He continued to feed his other dogs bits of his lunch as he talked to Spain. "Do you ever hear from Romano?"

_"No, not at all…"_ Spain trailed off with a hint of confusion in the tone of his voice, "_I wonder what they do all day? Or what they do every Sunday? Romano never shares with me anything about his day. iMi precioso tomate es muy privado! (My precious tomato is very private!) Very private he is."_

"Uh-huh," Germany mindlessly muttered as he tried to feed a piece of potato pancake to Germousser. The grey colored cat cautiously sniffed the contents and slowly nibbled at the food, whereas Gino the orange and white colored cat snubbed his portion. Germany smirked at Gino and he gently stroked the little curl on the cat's forehead, causing him to begin purring and causally plopping onto the dining table.

_"Germany? Are you there?"_ Spain asked.

"Hmm? Oh ja, I'm listening," Germany answered as he ate a portion of his meal.

_"Does Italy ever share with you about what he does on Sunday?"_

Germany answered with his mouth filled with food. "Nein, he doesn't."

Spain was taken aback by Germany's response. _"He says nothing to you?"_

"Nein."

_"Don't you think that's rather strange? I mean, he's practically your shadow! He always shares every aspect of his life with you! Why is he silent about what he does on Sundays?"_

Germany swallowed his meal and sternly answered the Spainaird. "I respect his privacy, Antonio. I don't like to pry on his personal business. Maybe his outings with Romano are boring. Perhaps there's nothing to share with me. Whatever the reason, it's none of my business. Or yours."

_"Okay, think of this,"_ Spain quickly retorted, _"I've always included Romano in whatever I'm doing, whether it's a siesta or a special show or anything like that and yet he has never returned the favor to me and has never invited me to whatever he's doing in Italy. Don't you think that's peculiar?"_

Germany sighed with annoyance. He wanted to hang up and eat the rest of his lunch. "Perhaps he doesn't want you around," he coldly muttered. The conversation suddenly became silent. Germany checked the screen of his iPhone to see whether or not Spain had hanged up. He was still on the line. He face palmed himself for being calloused toward his friend. "I-I shouldn't have said that. I apologize," He said with remorse to his tone.

_"I…I think you're right,"_ Spain hesitantly answered with a hint of sadness to his speaking voice.

"Nein, nein! Of course he wants –"

_"No, he doesn't."_

"Bitte (please), don't take my word for it! And don't become paranoid, either! Have you ever talked to him about this?" Suddenly, Black, Berlitz and Aster began to continuously whine for more food and Germany brought his index finger to his lips to tell them to shush up.

_"I've tried many times…but he just tells me to shut up or changes the subject. What is he trying to conceal from me? The same goes for Italy, too. What is he keeping from you?"_ Spain sternly asked.

"I-I don't know!" Germany cried as he motioned his dogs to keep quiet a second time. His demands remained ignored as Blackie and Berlitz whined louder while Aster began to bark in protest. Germany quickly got out of his seat and walked to the other room in order to continue his conversation.

Spain continued, _"Do you suppose…they're ashamed of us?"_ he asked with a sense of dread in his voice.

"Ashamed?!" Germany cried, "Why would my Italia be ashamed of me? Romano's a different story; he's very two-faced. Honestly, I don't see how you continue to associate with him."

_"Hey! Don't talk about mi tomate like that!"_ Spain cried.

"I can talk about him any way I like! I can't stand the jerk!" Germany angrily hissed.

_"Okay, think of this then,"_ Spain hurriedly said, _"Do you invite Italy to join you in any type of siestas you attend? What is it you Germans do…" _Spain struggled to explain his point to Germany until it finally came to him, _"The beer hall! Do you take him to a beer hall with you?"_

Germany lounged on the couch and closed his eyes. "Of course I do!" he snapped. He was terribly hungry and his patience grew thinner. The whining and barking dogs did not help his mood, either. "What are you getting at?!" he demanded.

_"Has he ever invited you to an Italian siesta? Has he ever included you into whatever ethnic situation he does in his life at his country?"_

Germany crossed his legs on the couch and annoyingly sighed. "Well, there was this time when Italy…and that…other time…" He had suddenly realized something that he had never thought twice about before and the thought actually frightened him. "He…he hasn't," Germany confessed as he opened his beautiful blue eyes.

_"I know that Sundays are important to them; they get to spend time with family. What family do they have? I have none unless you count my bosses and political colleagues and I can hardly stand them!" Spain solemnly released a sigh and continued, "If their so called 'family' exist, why haven't we met them? And for God's sake…why aren't we included?" _He paused for a few seconds and then he finally finished his point. _"Aren't we family to them?"_

Spain's question startled Germany so much that he suddenly sat up on the couch. He had made a good point. An excellent point, actually. What was Italy's standpoint on their relationship? If an extended family existed, why has he never been formally introduced? For the first time in his life, Germany began to feel something terrible in his guts. A sense of dread possessed him and worst of all, he began to have sudden thoughts of doubt and suspicion about Italy.

At this very moment, bother Germousser and Gino assisted their hungry doggy friends and together they slowly pushed the plate of potato pancakes to the edge of the table. Berlitz the Doberman carefully sat upward and gripped the side of the plate with his teeth and proceeded to bring the plate down to the floor. As soon as the plate was brought down, all three dogs scrambled together to eat Germany's lunch.

"I…I…" Germany struggled to speak as his anxiety skyrocketed, "I've never thought of it before…now that you mention it."

_"I wish that there was a way...a way for us to follow them…behind their backs!"_ Spain said suddenly with a tinge of anxiety in his own voice. _"I want to know what they do all day, Ludwig! What they do and whom they visit! Wouldn't you?"_

"I…I could never do that!" Germany cried, "I couldn't sneak around behind Italy's back like that! That is a terrible betrayal!"

Spain sighed and muttered, _"Si…I couldn't do it, either."_

"I…I have to go now, Antonio," Germany said as he got up from the couch. "Lets never discuss this ever again."

_"But Ludwig! – "_

"Nein!" Germany hissed.

_"Si…all right. Adios, Ludwig," _Spain said, defeated.

"Auf Wiedersehen," Germany uttered and he quickly hung up on Spain. Their conversation sickened him and he wanted desperately to forget what they had talked about. "I need a distraction…I need to get these thoughts out of my head!" he said to himself as he walked back to the dining room. Thankfully, a distraction awaited him in the dining room as Germany looked to the floor to see that his dogs had devoured his lunch.

"VERDAMMT! (DAMNIT!) YOU ATE MY LUNCH!" Germany furiously yelled to his dogs, whom all three answered proudly with a bark and a smile. Germany eyed Germouser and Gino at the table who were bathing one another and Germany suspected that they too were accomplices to their scheme.

Germany released a defeated sigh and scooped up the plate off the floor. "Well, who wants seconds?" he asked the dogs, whom all three barked a supposed "We do!" to him. He motioned his arm toward his direction as he walked to the kitchen and Blackie, Berlitz and Aster happily followed him with their tails wagging with delight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Germany had spoken to Spain on the phone over six hours ago and yet their candid conversation obsessively repeated itself in his head. He tried to stop thinking about it by going on the Internet then later walking his dogs around the neighborhood, but he could not get his mind to relax. He had spent his entire afternoon being filled with anxiety. He surly was not going to continue this behavior in the upcoming evening. So Germany began his routine weight training early in the gym room inside his elaborate home. He tried convincing himself that this would help ease his mind and on top of that, he would get a good work out for the next hour and a half.

Germany vigorously concentrated on his pull-ups as he stared sternly at his own reflection toward the mirrored wall. His face was crimson and wet with perspiration. His exposed upper body glimmered with sweat as his muscular arms pumped up and down, brining the German's chin above the steel bar. His physique was majestically impressive and God-like. He was so proud of his appearance. All three of his dogs centered themselves around the pull-up bar stand and intently watched their 'father' work out.

Suddenly, Germany's cellphone began to blare out its military march ringtone. He growled by the sound of the music. He did not want to stop his pull-ups to answer the phone. But he knew that the call might be of a great importance; it may be his Boss trying to reach him or even his brother, Prussia. He believed however that it could not be his precious Italy trying to reach him because he never checked in to him during his Sunday outings with his brother, Romano.

Germany released his grip from the steel bar and squatted down to the floor level to grab his phone. As he held it up, he read the screen. It was an unknown number trying to reach him. Germany never answered a phone call from a number he did not recognize. He pressed a button to deny the call and turned his focus back to the pull-up bar. As he began to continue his work out, his phone rang again. Germany's growl grew louder and he refused to stop his routine to answer it. It soon became silent in the gym again with the exceptions of Germany's grunts. But immediately, the gym room was echoing again with the sounds of the pompous military march.

"UM GOTTES WILLEN!" (FOR GOD'S SAKE!) Germany shouted angrily as he released his grip from the steel bar. He quickly grabbed the phone and answered the call. "HALLO!" he shouted into the receiver.

The voice on the other line yelled in a hyperactive, yet stressful tone. "_GERMANY! GERMANY! IT'S ME, ITALY!" _

Suddenly, Germany's facial composure changed from being incensed to becoming overjoyed; his glaring, stern eyebrows immediately relaxed. "ITALIA!" Germany shouted happily. He was thrilled to listen to the sound of his beloved's voice. However, as he listened, he could hear the distinctive sounds of whimpering and sniffling. Something was not right. "What's going on over there? Have you been crying?" Germany asked as his eyebrows slowly retracted to reform his usual frown.

"_P-please don't be mad at me, G-Germany!" _Italy pitifully answered.

Germany's heart palpitated by the sound of Italy's request. "I won't be mad," he assured him.

"_Y-you promise?"_

"Of course! I promise."

"_Cross your h-heart?"_

"Ja!" Germany answered as he rolled his eyes. He was becoming annoyed by Italy's request. 'What has he done?' he thought to himself.

"_D-did you cross your h-heart?"_ Italy softly muttered between sniffles. Germany gritted his teeth and actually crossed his heart with the index finger to his left hand as if he were being watched. "Ja! I just crossed my heart!" he cried.

"_P-promise –"_

"OH, GET ON WITH IT! WHAT'S WRONG?!" Germany yelled, which caused Italy's sniffles to quicken as he fought back his tears.

"_I…I lost my c-cellphone!" _Italy confessed and he suddenly began to weep. Germany face-palmed by the news. 'Not again!' he thought. He tried to contain his anger from exploding further and he rationally spoke to Italy. "Are you sure you don't have it?" he asked.

"_Mmm-hmm," _Italy hummed.

"Have you looked in your side pant pockets?" Germany asked as if he were instructing a child. He could suddenly hear the cellphone Italy was using shuffling about as he was searching for his own cellphone. "_It's not there!"_ Italy cried.

"Now check your back pockets," Germany ordered as one of his eyebrows twitched. He listened to the swooshing sound of the borrowed cellphone that Italy was using shuffle about again. Suddenly, a gasp of excitement could be heard and Italy began to gleefully giggle. "_I FOUND IT!"_ Italy proudly exclaimed.

At that moment, a deep baritone voice from a man could be heard in the background. "_That's __my__ phone, genius!"_ he coldly hissed. The voice belonged to his elder brother, Romano. Instantaneously, Italy began to weep profusely by the obvious realization. "_You probably put your fucking cellphone in the collection plate during Mass!" _Romano cried.

Italy scoffed toward his brother. "_Why would I do that?! That's stupid!"_ he whined.

"_YOU DID IT LAST MONTH!"_ Romano yelled, causing Italy to suddenly break down into uncontrollable sobbing. "_OH, MIO DIO!" (OH, MY GOD!) _Italy screamed in Italian. As Germany listened to their conversation, a smirk formed from his thin lips. He could not help but be a little amused by everything he had heard. He pressed a button on his phone to put the conversation on speaker and the gym room began to echo with the sobs and unintelligible mutterings of Italian words. Blackie, Berlitz and Aster's ears perked up as they listened to their other 'father's' voice and they began to whine with excitement.

"Calm down, Feli! I'm sure that your cellphone is here in the house. Let me go look for it. If it is indeed lost, I can replace it…yet again," Germany softly interrupted. He then could hear Italy's sobs slowly disperse and he had begun to compose himself. Germany continued, "Bitte nicht weinen, lieben. (Please don't cry, love.) I'll be right back. I have you on speaker so go ahead and talk to the dogs. They're here for you right now."

Italy's mood quickly changed from sorrow to exhilaration. "_CIAO, BLACKIE! CIAO, BERLITZ! CAIO ASTER! PAPÀ TI AMA COSÍ TANTO!"_ (Hello, Blackie! Hello, Berlitz! Hello, Aster! Daddy loves you so much!) The dogs recognized their names being called by Italy and they started to bark at the phone.

"_What's going on now?"_ Romano demanded.

"_He's looking for my phone in the house! I hope it's there!" _Italy exclaimed.

"_Well, he better hurry up! I'm almost over my minutes! I'll be getting overcharge fees if you stay on the fucking line any longer!" _

"_Don't worry, Fratello! (Brother). You'll be all right!"_

The conversation of the Italy brothers and the barks from the dogs became distant as Germany walked out of the gym room and explored the rest of the house looking for Italy's phone. He first checked the kitchen, but it was not there. He then checked the living room, especially the couch and he lifted each cushion up to reveal the furniture's secrets. No phone. He then proceeded to the dining room, bathrooms and finally to their bedroom. As he entered the bedroom, Germany spotted the cellphone on Italy's nightstand. "Oh, Gott sei Dank!" (Oh, thank God!) Germany exclaimed with relief. He grabbed the cellphone and walked back toward the gym.

"I FOUND IT! IT'S HERE!" Germany shouted in order for his deep voice to be picked up by the phone as he entered the gym room.

"_VEE~! Grazie, Germany! Hey, Romano! He found my phone!" _Italy happily exclaimed.

"_Good! Now you can hang up!" _Romano snapped.

"Do you feel better now, Italia?" Germany asked as he picked up his own phone and held it up to his face level.

"_I do! Grazie! I promise I won't lose my phone again!" _

"Cross your heart?" Germany lovingly teased.

"_Croce sul curoe! Vee~!" _(Cross my heart!) Italy gleefully answered as he actually crossed his heart with his index finger.

"_What the hell are you doing?! Hang up!"_ Romano angrily ordered.

Italy ignored his brother and he continued to speak to his beloved. "_Ti amo, tesoro!"_ (I love you, sweetheart!) Italy uttered softly to the receiver. His kind words made the proud German blush profusely. He loved it when Italy spoke sweet nothings in his language. Before Germany could respond, Romano started to shout again.

"_Get off the phone! We're going to be __late!__"_

"Late?" Germany asked out loud, "Late to where?"

"_Oh, you're right! Mi dispiace! (I'm sorry!) I gotta go now, Germany!" _Italy hurriedly said.

"Where are you going?!" Germany asked, hoping to get an answer from Italy. Instead, he just continued to hear Italy say his goodbyes while Romano's enraged voice interjected his pleas to get going.

"_I'll be home later tonight! I gotta go! I love yo- "_

"_HANG THE FUCK UP! MY MINUTES!"_

"_Arrivederci!" (Goodbye!)_

Silence.

Germany stood motionless in the middle of the gym, surrounded by his whining dogs. His mind had begun to scrupulously repeat all the negative thoughts he had been plagued with all day. His stomach felt as if it were knotting up inside him. His hands trembled from a combination of anxiety and rage. "Where are they going?" he questioned out loud to himself. "What are they up to?" He growled with resentment as he stomped out of the gym. Working out suddenly did not appeal to him anymore. As he walked past the dining room, he took notice of the empty applesauce container that was still lying on the floor. Germany expressed his wrath by suddenly kicking the container across the dining room to the living room. The container slammed against the television set, turning it on.

"WHAT THE HELL DO THEY DO ALL DAY?!" Germany angrily shouted. He glanced over to the fireplace mantle in the living room and he quickly walked toward it. He glared at Italy's innocent, smiling face in one of the photographs. "What are you hiding from me, Italia?" Germany sneered, "Why must you torture me like this?" He was about to continue interrogating the photograph until he felt someone staring at him. He turned to his side to see all the dogs and cats watching him as if he had just lost his mind.

"What are you looking at?" Germany asked defensively. He let out a heavy sigh as he walked toward the couch. The animals silently watched their 'father' walk to the couch and then looked to one another for insight as to what was going on. He sat down and blankly stared at the television screen. One by one, a commercial would play to promote a product or location. Then, a commercial for the iPhone began to play. It showed Martin Scorsese in the backseat of a taxicab in New York City and he was talking to his iPhone that was activated with Siri. When Scorsese sees somebody in the crowd that resembles his friend Rick, he quickly presses a button to speak to Siri.

"_Is that Rick? Where's Rick?"_

Ding!

"_Here's Rick."_

Suddenly, Germany snapped out of his glassed stare and looked intently at the commercial. He paid attention to what had happened and what the iPhone actually showed – an actual pinpoint location of Rick on a map. "I…I didn't know it could do that," he muttered. Both his hands gripped on something that felt foreign to him. He looked down to his hands and came to the realization that he was gripping his and Italy's iPhones. He had forgotten that he was holding them. Germany eyed both the iPhones and the television screen repeatedly as his mind buzzed a concoction of ideas for him to think about. Then it finally hit him – he could spy and track on Italy with the iPhones by activating Siri.

Germany stared at both the iPhones in his hands and his lips quivered. "I…shouldn't be doing this," he said to himself, "I shouldn't…but…" he glared up toward one of the larger photographs which pictured himself and Italy in an embrace. "_I want to know."_ Germany then stood up from the couch and walked to one of the rooms where the computer was located.

* * *

"Sono a casa!" (I'm home!) shouted Italy as he stepped inside the house. The purebred German dogs suddenly greeted him at the entrance and stood on their hind legs to lick his pale face. Italy happily giggled from the loving reaction from the dogs and he ran his fingers through each dog's backside. "I'm so glad to see you, too! Papà missed you, too!" he gently exclaimed to Berlitz, Blackie and Aster. He glanced around for Germouser and Gino, but they were nowhere to be found. As Italy turned his gaze toward the staircase which was right across from him stood Germany at the middle steps wearing his military uniform and boots.

"Germany!" Italy eagerly cried as Germany walked down the stairs with his right arm hidden behind his back. As he got to the bottom of the step, Berlitz, Blackie and Aster walked away from their 'fathers'. Each dog shot a glare up to Germany and Berlitz nodded his head with disappointment. They knew what Germany was up to and they did not approve whatsoever.

Italy glomped Germany's torso and he nuzzled his face onto his broad chest. He let out a contented Veeeeeee~ as he gripped Germany's military jacket with his petite hands. Germany looked down to the Italian and smirked. "How was your day?" he asked.

"Oh, it was good!" Italy answered as he looked up to his beloved with his large auburn eyes glistening with devotion to him.

"What did you do today?"

"What?!" Italy asked with astonishment. It was the first time that he had been questioned about his whereabouts. "Oh, well…you know, Romano and I went to Mass," Italy paused, as he was suddenly transfixed with his thoughts on what to say next. He then continued, "It was an average day, really. Nothing important happened that you'd be interested about!" he said as his cheeks flushed.

Germany's composure was cunning and he smiled at his beloved. "I see," he muttered, "I completely understand. Oh, by the way…I got you something."

"You did?!" Italy cried as he became giddy with excitement. "What is it?! What is it?!" Germany then revealed his right arm to him and held out Italy's cellphone dressed in a new protective cover with a charm dangling from its side. "I went out today…and got you this."

Italy gasped by the sight of his cellphone and he quickly took it out of Germany's gloved hand. He admired the new cellphone cover that his phone was now wearing – it was made to look like an actual chocolate bar. On its side was a charm that dangled freely with a tiny bell chiming softly as it swayed. The charm itself was shaped as a bowl of fresh pasta.

"Mio Dio! It looks just like a candy bar! And what's this – PAAASSSTTTAAA!" Italy squealed with delight. "This is wonderful, Ludwig!"

"I knew you'd like it. Your phone needed a new cover. As for the charm…I figured that with the tiny bell, you'd have no problem keeping track of your phone. You shouldn't have to worry about misplacing it anymore."

Italy stood on his tiptoes and pressed his soft, moist lips against Germany's. Germany eyebrows started to tremble nervously and the side of his forehead suddenly began to perspire. As Italy broke the kiss, he gave him a trustworthy smile, which almost broke the German's poker face. "You're so sincere, tesoro, for thinking of me this way. Grazie!"

"Bitte…it's nothing," Germany hesitantly answered. He glanced at Italy's iPhone screen and looked at the time. "It's midnight…you should go to bed."

"You're right! I'm so tired!" Italy said as he walked away from the tall German and headed upward on the staircase. "Will you still be staying up?"

"I…I'll be heading to bed as well…in a few minutes," Germany answered.

Italy smiled at his beloved and winked. "Don't keep me waiting!" he teased and he continued his journey up the stairs. As he walked around the corner of the upper floor of their home, Germany released a deep exhale and he quickly wiped the sweat off his forehead. His convincing poker face disappeared and his cheeks flushed with anxiety. "So far so good," he muttered to himself. He tugged at his shirt collar as an attempt to cool himself off from his constricted clothing. As he did this, he glanced to his left side to see Berlitz, Aster, Blackie, Germouser and Gino huddled together and each animal shot an ominous glare toward him.

"What?!" Germany softly hissed so Italy could not hear, "Stop looking at me like that! Keep it up and you'll all be sleeping outdoors!" The animals slowly dispersed and walked away to different directions, each one nodding their head in absolute shame.

"What's it to them?! I have the right to know what Italy does with his brother on Sundays! He…he brought this upon himself for being so damn secretive! I…I'm doing the right thing!" Germany exclaimed as he formed his gloved hands into fists. "I'm doing the right thing!" he exclaimed once more as he fought to convince himself that his intentions were good. He stood at the middle of the front hallway with nothing but his anxieties, fears and thoughts racing throughout his mind and body.

"I am doing the right thing…aren't I?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Author's Note: I wish to give thanks to everyone who is following, has reviewed and have added my story to their favorites. I really appreciate it! :3

* * *

One Week Later

The time was 04:00AM. Darkness was still draping the Spanish skyline and the stunningly pale, full moon spotlighted downward upon the citizens of Madrid. Mostly everyone was sleeping with the exceptions of the usual night owls and the early birds who were preparing themselves for the new day.

Romano was an early bird every Sunday morning; at 03:00 hours he would awaken from his sleep, say his morning prayers and begin his hygienic routine. Then, he'd spend most of his time trying to figure out which suit to wear and which type of tie or which pair of shoes would go well with his attire. He was not cautious nor did he have any consideration of trying to be as quiet as possible for the sake of his slumbering partner, Spain. Romano showered too early, cursed out loud when he injured himself when shaving his face and repeatedly opened and slammed his drawer cases and closet doors when retrieving or putting back something.

Spain shifted around in the bed and covered his ears with a pillow that was plopped over his head in order to muffle the noise his beloved was causing. He hated to be suddenly awakened like this, especially if he was having a really interesting dream. Sometimes, he was able to doze right back to sleep again. But for now he was groggily conscious. As Romano was pacing about in their master bedroom and preparing his appearance, Spain carefully lifted the pillow off his head and shifted himself in a lying position. With the blanket covering most of his face, he opened his exposed right emerald colored eye and watched Romano put on his clothes.

'¡Es tan sexy!' (He's so sexy!) Spain thought to himself as he secreted lusted at the Italian who had just pulled up and fastened his black suit pants. Romano's sun-kissed back was to Spain and he was transfixed by his reflection on the mirror as he focused on combing his dark hair. The posterior end of his devotional scapular* shifted about as Romano hurriedly fixed his hair the way he liked it. It had an image of Jesus Christ pointing to His Sacred Heart and it was stitched on the fabric swatch with two holy metals looped through the strings. He then placed the comb on a table and turned around facing Spain's direction, revealing the anterior side of his scapular that rested on his bare chest. It had an image of the Virgin Mary pointing to Her Immaculate Heart. He also wore two gold chains around his neck; one chain linked a small crucifix and the other chain linked a Cornicello.*

Romano stepped over to his dresser and opened one level to retrieve an undershirt, then slammed it shut. Turning his direction to Spain again, he slipped on the dark undershirt and tugged at the end part to smooth out any wrinkles. He then grabbed his long sleeved red shirt and carefully put it on. As he buttoned up his shirt, he looked over to his right toward the table again where he had laid out two ties. Once his shirt was buttoned, he grabbed the two ties and held them up to his neck as he stared at his reflection on the mirror again. He could not decide which one to wear – the black tie or the red tie.

'¡Oooh… Elija el lazo negro! ¡Se verá precioso en usted!' (Oooh…pick the black tie! It'll look lovely on you!) Spain excitedly thought and his smile increasingly widened while he watched Romano's indecisiveness. It took a few seconds, but Spain's pick was finally chosen and Romano started to loop the black tie around his neck. As he did this, however, Romano felt that somehow he was being watched. He tensed up suddenly and he glanced over toward the bed. Spain took notice of Romano's body language and he quickly closed his eyes and pretended to slumber. Romano suspiciously glared toward Spain, waiting to see any evidence that he was awake. When nothing conspicuous occurred, Romano looked away and continued to dress himself.

While Spain purposely kept his eyes shut, he physically began to feel sleepy and little by little his body succumbed into unconsciousness. As the Spaniard subconsciously returned to his mystifying dream world, Romano was fully dressed and ready for the day. He rushed over to his side of the king sized bed and grabbed his car keys, prayer book and scented rose beaded rosary from the nightstand. He devotedly kissed the crucifix of his rosary before slipping it into his inner suit jacket and he then put his keys and the prayer book in a side pant pocket.

Romano turned off the bedroom light and made his way through the exit of their master bedroom and down the Spanish tiled staircase until he stopped halfway. He had remembered another ritual that he had forgotten to perform. He released a deep sigh, turned around, walked back up the stairs, entered the bedroom, turned on the lights and quietly walked up toward Spain's side of the bed. He stood next to the bed and he carefully reached over to pull away the smothering blanket, revealing the snoring Spaniard with a dribble of saliva running down the edge of his gaping mouth.

Romano frown softened as he watched Spain and his lips formed a small smile. He extended his arm out to gently caress Spain's wavy brown tresses and then leaned forward to tenderly kiss Spain's eyelids. He has always performed this intimate ceremony for Spain every Sunday morning without his knowledge. He never wanted him to know about it, though. Romano would die from sheer embarrassment if it ever came out that he did this. Afterwards, Romano turned the lights off, left the bedroom, rushed down the Spanish tiled staircase and headed out the front door.

* * *

"I swear to God, the neighbors will come out and kill him someday!" Germany groaned. He was causally leaning against the front doorway of his home wearing grey pajamas pants and he had his muscular arms folded in front of his chiseled, exposed chest. He was staring toward Romano who was sitting in his stylish red Ferrari 458 Italia. Romano was impatiently honking the horn and yelling for Italy to come out.

"VENEZIANO! VI FRETTA?!" (Veneziano! Will you hurry up?!) Romano yelled as he honked the horn a few more times. The sound of the bellowing horn and his shouting voice shattered the still tranquility of the neighborhood. Germany could not stand the noise any longer. He hated it when it was Romano's turn to pick up Italy. He hated how Romano had no consideration for others, even sometimes for his own brother. To Germany, he was egotistical, rude, obnoxious, superstitious and bitter. He thought of him as a sociopath. He _hated_Romano.

The feelings that Romano held for Germany was quite neutral. As he noticed that he was being watched by Germany, Romano purposely cocked his head and snubbed him. "Blu diavolo dagli occhi!" (Blue eyed Devil!) Romano hissed as he formed a Mano Cornuto* with both his hands, invoking protection from Germany's penetrating stare. He despised how his brother loved being associated with him. Those vindictive blue eyes must have somehow manipulated Italy to be with him. To him Germany was stern, uptight, vain, cheap, controlling and shrewd. Worse of all, he was a Lutheran! A _heretic. _Romano _hated_ Germany.

Both of them only had one thing in common – they both loved and cared about Italy.

"Here I am!" Italy gleefully spoke as he rushed down the stairs. He was wearing a light grey colored suit with a baby blue colored collar shirt and greyish/white tie that was lightly checkered patterned. "Mi dispiace! (I'm sorry!) I took too long getting ready!" he said as he rushed up to Germany's side. He looked over toward Romano's direction and excitedly waved to him. "Ciao, Romano!" Italy shouted. He then turned his gaze back to Germany and he wrapped his arms around him.

Germany smiled at his precious and he unfolded his arms in order to bring Italy closer to himself. Italy smiled up at him and he gave him a couple of gentle kisses to his naked chest, which caused Germany's porcelain skin to turn goosepimply. "You look wonderful," he said.

"Grazie!" Italy exclaimed as he partially broke their embrace in order to run his left hand through Germany's blond tresses. Doing this caused his bed headed hair to become more exaggerated in appearance. "I'm surprised that you're up so early! You're usually still fast asleep when I leave the house on Sunday mornings."

Germany tensed as he listened to Italy's observation. It was true – he would still be asleep right now. His only reason as to why he was up at 5AM was to make sure that Italy had his iPhone on him so that he could begin tracking him via Siri on the his own iPhone. "Oh, well…Romano woke me up," he lied.

Italy's content face suddenly became a little puzzled by Germany's answer. "That's weird! You've always slept through my brother's honking and yelling many times! Why is it that it woke you today?"

Germany stiffened from anxiety. He had not expected on getting interrogated like this. "D-Does it really matter?" he defensively muttered. Italy's facial expression quickly changed from being confused to becoming blissful. "No, it doesn't!" he answered as he wrapped both his arms around Germany's waistline again. "I'm glad that you're up!"

"Me too," Germany said as he enveloped Italy in his strong arms and he slowly leaned forward to gently nudge the tip of his long, masculine nose against Italy's profile. The Erogenous Zone that curled outward from Italy's auburn hair suddenly transformed itself into the shape of a heart and a hushed Vee~ escaped from Italy's quivering lips.

Meanwhile, Romano's patience was wearing much too thin and his blood pressure had risen to its breaking point. "What the hell are they doing?!" Romano asked himself angrily as he glared toward his brother's direction. It made him upset to think that Italy was transfixed on that awful potato-eater without any regard to the fact that he was being waited upon just a couple of feet away. He could not take it anymore. Romano opened the door of his Ferrari, stepped out and violently slammed it shut. His black, Italian leather shoes stomped against the pavement of the driveway. As he finally made it toward both Germany and Italy, he stood across from them and stubbornly folded his arms. He exaggerated the clearing of his trachea as his way of announcing his presence to them.

"_AHEM!"_

Both Italy and Germany looked over to see Romano. Italy broke his embrace from his dearest in order to rest his arms onto his elder brother's shoulders. "Fratello!" Italy happily exclaimed.

His brother's pleasant greeting did not amuse Romano nor did his demeanor soften. "Why do you keep me waiting, Veneziano?! You know that I have to race us to the border so we can attend Mass and begin our day together! And what do you do?! You're wasting precious travel time by being distracted by…BY THAT!" Romano fumed as his hands gestured repeatedly up and down to emphasize his opinion until both hands pointed toward "that" – that being Germany.

Germany was slightly offended by how Romano referred to him. He was usually unfazed by any insults that the Italian threw at him. But this morning it mattered to him. Perhaps it was because he was insulted at his own home. Or perhaps it was because he was terribly exhausted and he secretly wanted to go back to bed. Nevertheless, Germany did something that he rarely ever did to Romano – he provoked him. "I have a name, you know. It's Germany. Understand? Get it right, Stechen!" (Prick!) Germany groused as he frowned toward Romano.

Romano's cheeks flushed crimson from bottled up rage and he stepped up closer to stand in front of Germany, thus breaking his brother's semi-embrace. He was not fluent in the German language, but he knew what "stechen" meant because he had been called this name in previous circumstances. "Bastardo! Go back upstairs! Your presence _sickens me!_" Romano angrily jeered as he pointed toward the staircase. Italy timidly stood behind his elder brother as he witnessed the bitter heckling between the two rivals unfold.

"Did you just give me an order right now, _on my property?_"

"Suppose I did! What's it to you?!"

"How dare you disrespect me, _sie_ _kriechen!_ (You creep!)

"Go back to bed! _Bastard!_ I came here for my brother! _Not for you!_"

"Too bad! I'm not budging!"

Italy decided that he needed to do something to break up the fight. He tried to get his brother's attention by saying his name and tapping his shoulder. "Lovino!" The first time he did this went totally ignored. He tried a second time. "Lovino!" No response. He tried for the third and final time and Italy tapped his shoulder a little harder and raised his voice. "LOVINO!"

Romano flinched as he realized that he was being touched from behind and he quickly turned around to face Italy. "WHAT?! WHAT IS IT?!" he shouted. Italy, untroubled by his bother's intimidating voice, extended his arms out and cheerfully grinned. "Buongiorno!" (Good Morning!)

Romano tried to ignore his younger brother's greeting by focusing his attention back to yelling at Germany, but he could not do so. He released a heavy sigh and his demeanor relaxed. He acknowledged Italy's greeting and accepted his opened arms and both the Italy Brothers embraced one another. "Buongiorno," Romano muttered, then they both greeted each other by cheek kissing one another, their final kiss prolonging itself platonically onto each other's soft lips.

"Vee~!" Italy exclaimed and both their Erogenous Zones curled into the shape of hearts. Romano's facial expression was temporarily content until he realized that they were not alone. He glared toward Germany, who was still leaning against the front doorway. _Watching_ _them._ Romano's facial expression hardened again as he observed his nemesis.

"What are you looking at?! Bastard! You're probably turned on right now from our greeting, aren't you?" Romano bitterly mocked.

Germany suddenly reached down to the spandex waistline of his grey pajamas pants and tugged it outwardly. "Wouldn't you like to know," he trolled and he released his grip to the spandex, causing a whip-like slap against his skin.

Romano's eyes widened by what just occurred and became utterly horrified. "OOOH! YOU'RE DISGUSTING!" he loathed and he immediately grabbed Italy's hand and led him toward his vehicle. "C'MON, VENEZIANO!" Romano shouted.

"B-but wait!" Italy curiously uttered, "Wait! I want to see if _he is_!"

"NO, YOU DON'T!" Romano cried.

As Germany watched the Italy Brothers walk to the Ferrari, he finally realized what his purpose was in waking up so early in the morning. "ITALIA!" he shouted, and Italy quickly turned around to look at him. This dismayed Romano and he expressed himself through profanity. "Oh, porca puttana!" (Oh, for fuck's sake!)

"Italia! Do you have your _cellphone?_" Germany asked. Suddenly, Italy pressed his hands onto his suit jacket, then his pants, feeling for any physical clue as to where his cellphone was. When he finally remembered he tucked it away inside his inner suit pocket, he happily pulled it out and waved it upwardly for Germany to see. The jingling of the charm's bell caught the attention of Romano and it startled him.

Germany smiled. His scheme was working out perfectly. "Sehr gute! (Very good!) Enjoy your day, Feli!"

"I will, Germany! Ciao!" Italy exclaimed to Germany and he blew him a kiss. Then both Italy Brothers walked together to the Ferrari, entered inside it, and slammed its doors. Germany could see them talking to one another while they fastened their seatbelts. Romano then turned on the engine. The sound of the engine thundered throughout the property. Both Romano and Italy leaned forward to gently grip and kiss the crucifix dangling from a rosary, which hung over the rear-view mirror. Then, they sped off toward their destination.

Germany was eager to trace their destination with his own iPhone. Perhaps he would begin right now. He knew that he should. But something physically stopped him from doing so – he was drained. "It's so damn early!" Germany said to himself as he closed the front door. He sluggishly decided to walk up the stairs and go to sleep. "I'll use Siri this afternoon," he said. As he got to the top of the staircase, he walked toward his master bedroom, entered, and passed out onto the king sized bed.

* * *

**KEY TERMS**

· Scapular – A scapular is a type of Roman Catholic Sacramental cloth garment that is worn like a necklace but primarily rests on the shoulders. (Scapular – "shoulders" in Latin). The purpose of a scapular is sort of like a pledge or devotion. It is worn by "Religious" (priests, nuns, etc.) and everyday laypersons. Scapulars may have a specific theme to them (devotions to the Madonna, the Holy Trinity, or to a Saint) with the promise that when worn, that person shall be protected from evil and (God forbid) that person were to die, they will be bypassed from going to Hell.

· Cornicello – A cornicello is a bull horn-shaped pendant that is traditionally worn by Italians (especially Southern Italians) for protection against the Evil Eye or "Malocchio" (Mal = Bad; Occhio = Eye in Latin). The pendant may also be red and shaped as a pepper.

· Evil Eye - The Evil Eye is a malicious stare from someone who envies a person too much or with the intent of bringing bad luck, injury or death. The belief of the Evil Eye exists in Italy, but mostly in the Southern region. This superstition extends throughout Greece, Turkey and the Middle East. The origin of the Evil Eye is believed to have come from Jewish folklore.

· There are other ways of protecting a loved one from the Evil Eye. In Jewish tradition, a person "spits" three times by making a "tfu-tfu-tfu" sound with their mouth. This is also done to keep away ghosts. This practice is also done in Turkey, Greece and Italy. Some people may actually spit saliva to invoke protection. Spitting on a loved one _may_ happen, too.

· Mano Cornuto - In Italy, there is an actual hand gesture to ward off the Evil Eye – the "Mano Cornuto" (Horned Hand). It's best known as the "Rock On!" hand gesture people do at concerts.

· The Evil Eye is symbolically seen as a blue eye, especially in Turkey. This may be the case because traditionally Mediterranean and Middle Eastern populations dominantly tend to be brunette (brown hair, brown eyes). Having blue eyes is a recessive trait (so is having blond hair) and is usually noticeable only in Northern Europe. The theory by cultural anthropologists is that probably Southern Europeans and Middle Easterners were so startled or terribly frightened when they met individuals with blue eyes that superstitions arose from fear of them. A commonly known derogatory phrase when referring to people with blue eyes is "Blue-Eyed Devils".

This _may_ be one of the reasons why Romano dislikes Germany. It's not canon, but maybe it should be.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Germany had only been asleep for a half an hour after Italy's departure, but he suddenly awoken, semi-panicking because he feared that he had overslept. He scrambled on the bed to his nightstand and he grabbed his iPhone to check the time. It was almost 8:00AM. Germany released a sigh of relief. The day had not been wasted. Best of all, he could sleep just for a few more hours. He programmed the timer on his iPhone to wake him up at 10:30AM. After placing the phone onto the nightstand again, Germany fell back into a deep slumber.

* * *

"Oh, mein Gott…" Germany mumbled as he slowly came back into consciousness and he tiredly rubbed his eyes. He then brought himself up in a sitting position and he outstretched his muscular arms. Germany moaned as his muscles tensed and a deep yawn escaped from his throat. "I…better get myself cleaned up," he instructed himself as he brought his arms back to his sides. Germany then glanced over toward the television set and looked at the time that displayed itself on the cable box. He had expected to see the exact time that he had planned on waking up – 10:30AM. Instead, a different time was showing on its screen. The current time was 16:18 (4:18 PM).

Germany's pupils suddenly dilated and he became greatly distressed. As if he had suddenly guzzled a dozen cups of strong coffee, Germany was fully awake, alert and absolutely furious. "WAS ZUR HÖLLE?!" (WHAT THE HELL?!) he shouted as he got out of bed and rushed up to the cable box. "THIS CAN'T BE THE RIGHT TIME! THIS CAN'T BE! NEIN!" He violently shook the cable box and growled in protest. He then slammed it back in its place and he rushed toward his bedside and instinctively reached for his iPhone on the nightstand. "WHY DIDN'T THE ALARM WAKE ME UP?!" he shouted as his hand made a grabbing reflex onto the nightstand table. He was distracted by his own rage and not realizing that he was empty-handed. He eventually came to the realization that he was not gripping on anything. He looked over to the nightstand and to his horror his iPhone was not there.

"NEIN…NEIN! WH…WHERE IS IT?!" Germany screamed as he went down on his knees and desperately searched for his iPhone around and behind the nightstand. When he could not find it there, he quickly checked under the bed. But it was not there, either. "HOW COULD THIS BE?!" Germany shouted as he formed his hands into tight fists and gestured his arms timidly in front of him. He then suddenly felt as if he were being watched. Slowly, Germany turned his glance toward the bedroom entrance. Right there, in the center stood Germouser, watching his 'father's' mental breakdown. The expression on his face was serious and unimpressed.

"Y-YOU! IT WAS YOOOOOOU!" Germany bellowed as he pointed his trembling hand toward the grey colored cat. His face was crimson with rage and his bed headed hair was wildly teased after he anxiously ran his fingers through it. He then proceeded to crawl over to Germouser's side and he remained at the cat's eye level. "Germouser…my dear, _dear Germouser_…where is my cellphone?!" Germany angrily hissed through his grimace. Germouser made eye contact with his 'father' and showed no indication of being intimidated by him. He then lifted his left arm, licked it up until it was damp with saliva and then proceeded to wash his face.

"GERMOUSER! WHERE IS MY PHONE?!" Germany shrieked as he immaturely slammed his fists on the carpet. Germouser briefly paused his bath to glare at Germany and then continued where he left off. Germany furiously growled as he slammed his fists for the final time, then stood up and stomped past Germouser. As he rushed through the hallway and stepped halfway down the staircase, he stopped and gawked over the railing to see Aster, Berlitz, Blackie and Gino sitting together and looking up at their 'father'.

Germany clenched the wooden railing with both his hands. "WHICH ONE OF YOU DID IT?!" he screamed. All three dogs and the cat amusingly glanced to one another and then focused their gaze back to Germany. The animals knew exactly where the cellphone was hidden. They had planned everything out while their 'father' slept. They were completely against him for wanting to snoop behind Papá Italy and Zio Romano's backs. (Zio = Uncle in Italian). Hiding the cellphone was their attempt to prevent Germany from conducting his terrible scheme.

Germany suddenly slammed the railing and he walked further down the staircase, only to stop again. "WHICH ONE OF YOU DID IT?! ANSWER ME!" he furiously inquired again. His presence was menacing to the animals, but they refused to show any sign that they were afraid. Aster, Berlitz, Blackie and Gino glared toward Germany and they departed to different directions of the house. Germany's face reddened even more from his skyrocketing blood pressure and the veins in his neck protruded as he passionately shrieked. "MEUTEREI! DAS IS MEUTEREI, SAG ICH DIR! _MEU-TE-RRRRRRRREI!_" (MUTINY! THIS IS MUTINY, I TELL YOU! _MU-TI-NNNNNNNY!_)

Germany hurriedly rushed down the staircase and he was going to start looking for the animals, but he was suddenly afflicted with slight chest pain due to the constant shouting he had done. Germany walked to the living room and sat on the couch and he focused intently on calming himself down. "How could they do this to me?!" he asked himself as he slowed his breathing. He could feel the racing pulse of his heart in his chest and neck begin to subside. "They had no right! No right at all! Now the day is wasted! If I were to leave for Italy now, I'd be stuck in traffic for hours…everything has been ruined! I…I shouldn't have slept."

Germany wiped the perspiration off his forehead and the sides of his face with his trembling right hand. Suddenly, a brilliant idea popped up in his head and he snapped his fingers, "I know! I can just call myself using the telephone in the kitchen! Then I can retrieve…oh wait, I can't...I don't know my own phone number by heart. Verdamnt!" (Damn it!) Germany's brief moment of victory extinguished itself and he was once again overcome with disappointment. "I'll have to try again next week…if I ever find my phone…" He suddenly expressed his frustration by slapping the couch cushion. "NEIN! I CAN'T WAIT UNTIL NEXT WEEK! I HAVE TO KNOW WHERE ITALY IS AND WHAT HE'S DOING NOW! RIGHT NOW!"

He did not utter another word after his outburst. Germany sat quietly on the couch and he compulsively tapped the fingers of his left hand against the armrest of the couch. He pondered over how he could retrieve his cellphone from his manipulative pets. '_Germouser is too loyal…he'd never betray his comrades…as for the dogs, well…I may be able to convince them to spill the beans…as for Gino…he's putty in my hands. I can easily make him confess…'_ Germany immediately stopped thinking to himself as his peripheral vision sensed three canine heads peering over to look at him from a distance. Germany acknowledged their presence with a sinister smile curling on his paling face. '_I'll try to break them first!'_ he thought to himself as he stood up from the couch.

As he calmly walked toward the Doberman, the Golden Retriever and the German Shepherd, all three dogs cautiously eyed one another and nodded. They knew that Germany might be up to something. Whatever strategy he planned to throw at them, they had to try their best to resist the temptation to confess about the whereabouts of his iPhone. They had to remain strong for both Papá and Zio's sakes!

Germany paused and he quietly stood still in front of the animals. He motioned with his hands for the dogs to come to him. They eventually did so and they timidly came forward. Germany contemplated on how he could possibly manipulate them into confessing as his hand gently caressed the backs of each dog's ears. Then, an idea popped up in his head while he was petting Aster. '_Of course! This will break them into talking…or at least one of them!'_ Germany excitedly thought. He then slightly bent his knees, rested his palms on his thighs and began to speak to the dogs in the most sickening, sweetest tone of voice.

"Wer will ein Vergnügen?! (Who wants a treat?!) Hmmmmm?!"

Just by hearing the word _treat_ made Blackie and Bertliz shudder. Germany knew their weakness too well. They both stubbornly shook their heads and declined his offer and they tightly squinted their eyes shut. Aster, on the other hand, had been easily won over and the Golden Retriever's tail began to happily wag. Germany roughly petted the dog as he continued to speak to Aster in his silly, over exaggerated voice. "Who wants a treat?! Yooooou doooooo! Jaaaa! Aster does! Ja, Sie tun, Junge!" (Yes, you do, boy!) Aster suddenly stood on his hind legs and he joyfully licked Germany's face. Germany let out a deep chuckle and he embraced the dog in his arms. Then, he stood up straight and motioned Aster to accompany him into the kitchen.

As Aster obeyed and trailed behind Germany, Blackie started to growl while Berlitz rushed over and bit on Aster's collar, thus preventing him from walking any further. Blackie barked at Aster angrily for being so easily fooled by Germany and he grunted at him in their dog language. "DON'T FOLLOW HIM! IT'S A TRAP!" he snarled.

"B-but I'm hungry! And I want a treat!" Aster innocently answered.

The German Shepherd barked furiously at Aster. "THIS IS A PLOY TO GET HIS CELLPHONE BACK FROM US! DON'T GIVE IN, ASTER!"

"You gotta listen to him, Man! Be strong!" hissed the Doberman Berlitz through his canine teeth as he clutched Aster's collar.

Meanwhile, Germany was already in the kitchen and he was rummaging through the cabinets for dog treats. When he was able to find a box of stale treats, he realized that this was not good enough to do the job. He turned his attention to the refrigerator and opened its doors. The coolness of the fridge's interior chilled Germany's pink nipples and his skin was covered with goose pimples.

"There's got to be something in here to tempt Aster with!" Germany said with agitation to his voice as he carelessly shuffled around all of the cold beer bottles, quart of milk and all of the glass Tupperware containers sheltering all of Italy's delicious pasta leftovers. When he found nothing there, he rummaged inside the vegetable and fruit bins, then to the meat bin. It was in the meat bin that he found the perfect bait for Aster – two pounds of raw bratwurst links wrapped in cellophane.

Germany's blue eyes widened with excitement and he started to cackle like a deranged madman. "Oh, das ist _perfekt!_" (Oh, this is _perfect!_) he hissed in his deep voice as he unsoundly cradled and caressed the bloody package in his powerful, muscular arms. He gently rocked back and fourth as his cackle demonically increased. Then, he gave a slobbering kiss onto the package and his trembling lips became glossed with blood. Finally, Germany slammed the refrigerator's doors shut, plopped the brats on the counter, pulled out a cast iron pan out of a cabinet and turned on the gas stove up to the highest level. The flames danced underneath the cast iron pan and soon it was glowing red from the heat.

Germany unwrapped the brats and he placed the linked sausages into the red-hot cast iron pan. Immediately, the sweet, seductive aroma of pork and sage consumed the kitchen and its scent diffused throughout the rest of the house. The scent soon entered into the nostrils of the dogs. As soon as Aster sensed that his treat was being prepared, he vigorously fought against Berlitz's grip to his collar. Aster eventually was able to slip his head through the collar and he was freed from the Doberman's bondage. The Golden Retriever zoomed to the kitchen to be with his 'father' and he feverishly barked for his treat. Blackie and Berlitz quickly chased behind Aster and went into the kitchen in order to prevent their friend from being tricked.

Germany looked over to Aster and grinned. "Your treat is almost ready!" he exclaimed. Aster happily smiled to his 'father' and his big, pink tongue hung out of his watering mouth. Both Blackie and Berlitz snarled and yelped at him, begging Aster to snap out of his meaty trance. But it was too late – the bratwursts were completely cooked and then transferred to a silver platter. This was a little too extravagant to serve a cheap meal to a dog. But Germany wanted to display the bait as attractively and as desirable as possible for the gullible purebred.

"Here it is, Aster!" Germany proudly said as he held the silver platter to the dog's level. He then lifted the covering and revealed the piping hot links. The sausages were sweating profusely with lovely meat juices. Aster was overwhelmed by his delicious treat and, to the dismay of his buddies, he widened his mandible and he was ready to consume his wonderful meal.

But suddenly, the silver covering slammed over the sausages, concealing the meal from Aster. The dog was stunned by what just occurred and his big eyes looked up to Germany. To his horror, his 'father's' smile had completely diminished and he was giving him an ominous glare. Germany slowly licked off the dried blood from his lips and finally he broke his silence. "You're a good, loyal dog, aren't you Aster?" he slowly asked in a monotone speaking voice. The dog understood and nodded _yes_ to the question.

"I need you to _prove_ to me that you are indeed a good, loyal dog. _I need my cellphone, Aster._ If you oblige and tell me where it's hidden…_all of this can be yours_," Germany then slowly lifted the silver covering to reveal the plump sausages to Aster again. Aster's eyes widened and dilated by the sight of the sausages. A sense of dread consumed his gut as he finally realized that his friends were telling him the truth about Germany's intentions. He looked behind him to see both Berlitz and Blackie face-pawing themselves.

Germany's patience was becoming very short as each second to each minute passed. He looked to the microwave clock and watched the time. It was now 16:52 (4:52PM). He was running out of precious traveling time. He turned his gaze back to Aster and his forbidding stare pierced through the dog's soul. "We can do this the easy way…_or the hard way._"

Germany stood up and walked to the kitchen sink. He settled the platter on the counter and his right hand reached over to a switch. "Oh, I wonder what this does?" Germany trolled and then switched it on. Suddenly, a terrible motor roared underneath the sink. He had turned on the garbage disposal. Germany removed the silver covering again and grabbed the warm sausages with his hands. He held the links close to himself with his left hand while his right hand broke a sausage off of its link. He held the lone sausage over the orifice of the garbage disposal and he glanced over to Aster and to his other two dogs.

"If you don't tell me where my cellphone is…then I will dump the food into the disposal…link by link!"

Suddenly, all three dogs looked to one another and whined. "He…He wouldn't! That's just cruel!" Blackie cried.

"Vater's playing Devil's Advocate! Don't believe him, Aster!" Berlitz begged. (Vater = Father in German).

"M…My…My treat! My wonderful treat!" Aster pathetically whined.

"HA! You don't believe that I'll go through with it, huh?! You think I'm full of hot air, do you?! Where is my cellphone, boys?!" Germany threatened the dogs as if he could interpret what they were saying to one another. The dogs devotedly refused to give in to Germany's ultimatum.

Then it finally happened. Germany released his hold on the lone sausage and it quickly descended into the garbage disposal. The motor of the disposal roared loudly as it successfully ripped apart the sausage into tiny, inedible morsels. Germany gave the dogs a devious smile after the audible sounds of carnage ended from within the kitchen sink. "EIN!" (ONE!) he shouted.

Suddenly, the dogs began to whine and bark at Germany. Aster alone was trembling with fear over the fate of his delicious treat. "NO! STOP IT!" Aster barked. Germany gripped the second sausage dangling from the rest of the links and sternly ripped its connection to the others. He held the sausage over the garbage disposal again and his breathing increased from the thrill of interrogation. "WHERE IS MY CELLPHONE?!" he yelled. Aster shook his head and clenched his eyes shut as a way of preventing himself from being tempted. Berlitz and Blackie did the same and all three dogs trembled from anxiety. They must remain strong for Papá and Zio! They must not give in!

Germany took notice of their demeanor and chuckled. "All of this will end if you would just tell me the truth!" When the dogs continued to ignore him, Germany frowned and this time he violently threw the sausage link into the kitchen sink, causing it to slam against the stainless steel borders and toppling into the disposal to finally meet its demise. "ZWEI!" (TWO!)

The dogs whined by the sound of the sausage being shredded inside the disposal, but they continued to ignore their demented 'father'. Germany's rage increased by their strong will. The day was almost over and he needed to get going. He eyed the microwave clock and to his disgust the time was now 17:00 (5:00PM). Suddenly, Germany took hold of the linked sausages with both hands and he held the mass over the kitchen sink. "IS THIS WHAT YOU WANT, ASTER?! DON'T MAKE ME DO IT!" Germany disturbingly shouted.

Aster lifted one eyelid open and he suddenly cringed by the sight of his beautiful treat being held over the sink. He opened both his eyes and the sides watered with fresh tears. He could not allow this to happen! He wanted his sausages! The inclination was too much for him to handle any longer and he buckled by releasing a spine tingling howl. "I'LL SHOW YOU! I'LL SHOW YOU WHERE IT IS! JUST PLEASE DON'T SHRED MY TREAT!" Aster desperately barked. Blackie and Berlitz hung their heads in defeat. They were very disappointed in Aster, but they understood what kind of pressure that he was going through. In the end, they had tried their best.

Aster darted out of the kitchen and ran through the backdoor and into the back yard. Germany suddenly wrapped the warm linked sausages around his neck and he quickly followed behind the Golden Retriever. Once he was at the back yard, he saw Aster swiftly digging into the earth inside Italy's vegetable garden. Germany rushed to the dog's side and he assisted in the digging by scooping his hands into the soil. He dug as if he were a mole making a passageway. Finally, there laid the iPhone caked in dirt and slime residue leftover by the worms.

"JA! JAAAAAAAAA!" Germany gleefully shouted as he grabbed the filthy cellphone and held it victorious upward. During this whole fiasco, the next door neighbor took notice of Germany's crude appearance and strange behavior and whipped out his own cellphone to take a photo. Germany glared toward the neighbor and threatened him. "WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING AT?! DON'T JUDGE!" The neighbor panicked and he immediately scrammed back into his own house.

Germany stood up and mindfully tried to wipe off the mud that imprinted against his knees through his grey pajamas pants. His eccentric behavior quickly diminished and he was his regular, old, boring self once again. He looked over to Aster who sat loyally next to his 'father'. Germany unwrapped the linked sausages around his neck and dropped it in front of the dog. "Here you go," he calmly uttered. Aster sniffed the food and whined to himself out of guilt. "Forgive me, Papá and Zio!" he whined in his doggy language. Then he scooped up the links and he happily started to devour them.

Germany walked away from Aster and he was halfway across the backyard until he stopped in his tracks. He wiped off the mud and slime from the iPhone screen and he activated Siri to speak to him. As he pushed a button to begin the process, a single ding rang out from the phone's speaker. "Where is Feliciano?!" Germany asked. Siri began the tracking immediately after being asked. Germany's hands trembled with anticipation while he waited. Soon he will know where Italy was located. Soon he will be following him!

Finally, the iPhone answered Germany's question.

_Ding!_

_Here is Feliciano._

Germany blue eyes widened as he looked at the map. The GPS had pinpointed Italy's current whereabouts in a location around Tuscany. Germany began to descend back into madness over such exciting news. "_TUSCANY!_ HE'S IN TUSCANY! WOO-HOO! IT WORKS!" Germany happily shouted and began to wildly jig around the backyard. "HE'S IN TUSCANY! I KNOW WHERE HE IS! HE'S IN TUS-…" Germany suddenly stopped his joyous dance as he noticed that the same neighbor that he previously yelled at was spying on him through the blinds inside one of his rooms. "WHAT?! I SAID STOP JUDGING ME! DUMMKOPF!" (JACKASS!) Germany shouted at the window and the neighbor frantically got away from the windowsill.

Germany merrily ran back into the house, through the kitchen, turned off the disposal and then he dashed through the living room and up the vast staircase. Once at the second level, he rushed into the bathroom and was about to begin cleaning himself up until something dawned on him – he remembered his dear friend, Spain. If it had not been for him, none of this could have been possible. Spain had the right to know the whereabouts of that bastard, Romano, too. Together, they can both finally witness what it was that the Italy Brothers did together every single Sunday. "I can't do this alone," Germany mumbled as he searched for Spain's cellphone number.

* * *

The spacious living room was being bombarded with the sounds of a cheesy Spanish soap opera and the pleas of a loyal fan. Spain was sitting on the couch completely naked with a bowl of popcorn resting on his lap. He was deeply involved and furious over a lame plotline of the soap opera he was watching. "DON'T DO IT, REINA! DON'T HOOK UP WITH THAT TIŔON (JERK) FERNANDO! HE'S HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH SISTER LUCIA! SAY NO TO HIS PROPOSAL!" Spain desperately shrieked to the actress on the television screen. "DON'T DO IT! DON'T DO – AND SHE DOES IT! ESTÚPIDO! (STUPID!)" Spain shouted at the screen as he watched the actors making out with dramatic guitar music playing in the background. Spain angrily threw his spicy popcorn at the television screen in protest. "BOOOOOOO!"

Suddenly, Spain's cellphone began to ring. Spain looked to the coffee table where his feet were crossed and resting over. He never answered his phone during his soaps. But something instinctively told him to check the screen to see who was trying to reach him. He brought his feet to the Spanish tile floor and he reached over to grab the phone. When it saw that it was Germany calling him, he grinned happily and accepted the call. "Buenas Noches, Germany! (Good Evening!) Wow! I haven't heard from you since the last time we talked! When was that, last week? I must have really pissed you off, huh? Look…about everything we discussed last week…you were right. It's none of our business what Italy and Romano do together on Sundays…"

"_Spain –"_

"I mean, that would be a really low thing to do to them, wouldn't it? You know, to spy on them and all! Pfft! I wouldn't want someone to do that to me!"

"_SPAIN!"_ Germany shouted through the receiver. Spain quickly silenced himself and listened to what Germany had to say to him. When he heard what was said, his jaw dropped in disbelief.

"_I know where they're at."_

"No way! You're bluffing!"

"_I'm not bluffing, Antonio! They're in Tuscany. Right now. At this very moment."_

"But…how do you know this?!"

"_Well, uh…*gulp*…I guess you can say I'm…tracking Italy with our iPhone via Siri. It works."_

Spain began to laugh hysterically over everything he was told. "Oh, Dios Mio! (Oh, my God!) That's INGENIUS! Why didn't I think of that?! My God, you _Germans_ are wonderful at infringing on people's privacy!"

Germany resented that statement. He had not wiretapped innocent peoples' phones since WWII. "_I can't take full credit. This is American technology. We should give thanks to Apple for having this program available."_

Spain's grin extended as he mockingly saluted with his hand. "God Bless America!" he cried. There was a pause in their conversation for a few seconds afterwards. Finally, Germany broke the silence.

"_So…do you want to see what they're up to?"_

Spain suddenly jumped up from the couch; causing the bowl of popcorn to fly upward and having the spicy popcorn briefly rain over him. "¡SÍ! ¡SÍ ASÍ ES!" (YES! YES, I DO!)

Germany briefly lectured Spain in what to do next. "_Change your clothes – or I should say, put some clothes on. Wear black garments only. Drive to my house and I'll drive us to Tuscany with one of my vehicles. Get ready right now! The day is almost finished!"_

"YOU GOT IT, LUDWIG!" Spain shouted ecstatically and he hung up the phone and ran up the spiral Spanish tiled staircase. As he rummaged through his closet to find any black clothes he could slip on, he looked over to a photograph hanging on the wall that depicted Italy and Romano standing together. Spain picked up the framed photograph and kissed his beloved's image. "I'm coming for you, mi poco de tomate!" (My little tomato!)

* * *

Both Germany and Spain stood inside one of the extensive garages where a vehicle was being housed in. Both men were dressed entirely in black, including wool hats that concealed their hair. They both looked like a pair of bandits. "HOLY SHIT!" Spain exclaimed as Germany pulled off the white car cover and revealing a vintage, khaki-colored camouflaged WWII vehicle, the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen. "I haven't seen one of these babies since the Spanish Civil War! Does it really work?!"

"Of course it works! I take care of my things!" Germany insisted as he climbed over the right side of the jeep and sat down. Spain rushed to the left side and sat down with him. Germany pulled out his keys and turned on the ignition. The engine roared viciously as it was suddenly awakened by its prolonged sleep. Then, Germany pulled out his iPhone and a mini GPS. He carefully typed in the exact coordinates as to where the Italy Brothers were at and he programmed the computer to tell him where to go. Once everything was set and ready, Germany turned the gear to Drive and they drove out of the garage.

Spain used a remote handed to him by Germany to close the garage door behind them. Afterwards, he sat forward again and shouted victoriously to the world. "TUSCANY, HERE WE COME!" Both the Spaniard and the German started to laugh delightfully as they sped off toward their destination. They could only imagine what they would be witnessing in their partners' lives and only God knew what awaited them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Author's Note: I wish to give my sincere thanks to everyone who has taken an interest in my story! I really appreciate the reviews! Thank you to everyone who is following my story and/or has my story in their favorites! I'll try my best to update more often; my schedule is _really_ chaotic right now due to college. Chapter 5 begins my introduction of original characters. There will be different OC's in each chapter. Chapters for my story for now on _may_ be as long as chapter 5 or possibly longer. I'll _try my best_ to write shorter chapters, but I can't promise anything. The rating for my story may go up to "M" soon. So I'm just letting everyone know ahead of time.

Thank you! Please review if you want!

UPDATE: Quick edit! The title of my story is now Alla Famiglia instead of Per Famiglia. Google translate corrected the grammatical errors of my title (I hope.)

* * *

Germany had made a tremendous and dangerous effort traveling himself and Spain to the region of Tuscany in northern Italy before sundown. He probably broke a couple of speeding rules and he for sure knew that he was being a reckless driver in the process, but it was entirely worth it to him. Now both nations were sitting in traffic in the heart of the bustling and ancient city of Florence. Germany's military automobile, the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen, was sitting conspicuously in the middle lane of the street and an ocean of Fiats, Italian sports cars, motor scooters and jaywalkers surrounding it. They were only 11 kilometers (7 miles) to their final destination: the countryside town of Bagno a Ripoli. That was where their beloved Italy Brothers were currently located.

Germany tried his best to ignore the monotonous protests of honking car horns by admiring the Italian Baroque architecture of the beautiful city. Meanwhile, Spain, who sat in the left-side passengers seat of the military vehicle obsessively played with the knob to the custom-made car radio to find a decent song to listen to. "C'mon…c'mon!" he muttered in protest as the dial to the antique radio shifted from one end to the other. "I'm not getting good variety with this thing. Everything is in _Italian!_"

Germany rolled his eyes and looked to his left toward Spain. "Of course everything is in Italian. _We're in Italy!_" he sternly answered.

Spain smirked at his serious friend and he continued his desperate search for a good station. "I know that, Ludwig! I was hoping that somehow this thing could pick up some Spanish radio. I can't understand these Italian songs! They're great and all, but -"

"Wait a minute," Germany interrupted as his luminous blue eyes widened with surprise, "You're not fluent in Italian?"

"Nope!" Spain cheerfully answered.

"But…how can this be? You're Romano's former boss! Plus, you two have been together for God knows how long! You mean to tell me after all these_ centuries_ you've never bothered to pick up his language?!"

"¡Si! That's right!"

Germany rested his right elbow onto the armrest and he face palmed himself with dissatisfaction. "You have _got_ to be kidding me! I was depending on you to be my translator in case we get lost or things go wrong! Scheiße! (Shit!)"

Spain temporarily turned his focus away from the radio and he patted the German's left shoulder. "Don't worry! Most Italians can speak Spanish thanks to my _amazing_ influence on them! I can still be your translator!"

"You were in possession of Southern Italy. We're in the _Northern Italy._"

"Everything's going to be all right! I'm sure they speak my language up here, too! Don't worry!" Spain assured the nation. He then returned his attention to the radio again and he played with the dial. "So how come you haven't learned Italian?" he asked.

"Oh, well…erm…I guess I haven't bothered as well," Germany confessed as he felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. He felt so shallow at the moment for criticizing Spain when he himself lacked the facility of multilingualism. Spain picked up on Germany's tensed body language and he was amused by it. Suddenly, the bottom traffic light arrow radiantly lit green and traffic began to flow forward. While Germany focused on the road and especially toward the aggressive Italian drivers in their tiny Fiats, he asked Spain a question. "I'm assuming that Romano can speak Spanish. Does he?"

Spain, still playing with the radio, nodded and smiled. "¡Si! He's fluent, too! But we don't talk to one another in my language. He only speaks Español when he's in the general Spanish public or he comes across persons in Parliament or in Court. What about Italy? Can he speak German? – OH! OH! OHHHHH!" Spain suddenly exclaimed while a song got his attention. The music was an Italian vintage, bossa-nova type pop instrumental called "Quando, Quando, Quando" by the Clarence Curvan Orchestra. Spain rhythmically bopped from side to side by the tempo of the song and he was getting into the groove. "Are you feeling this song?! I'm feeling it!" He suddenly stopped moving as the percussion temporarily ceased. After the trumpets performed an introduction and the percussion started again, Spain sensually danced to the rhythm of the song while sitting in his seat.

Germany smirked at the sight of the joyful Spaniard. He was happy for him that he finally found a song to enjoy. He then answered his question. "The German language has not been particularly kind to my _Italia_," he stated and he released a deep, pleasing laugh. Then, he continued, "Many years ago, he insisted that I teach him my language. When that happened however…*chuckle*…he became _very_ frustrated. He eventually had a nervous breakdown and sobbed! Bless him, he tried his best!"

Suddenly, a blue Fiat cut in front of Germany without putting on their turning signal. The inconsiderate driver angered Germany and he mindlessly flipped the bird at the driver. The driver made sure to let Germany know that he saw his actions by returning the flattering hand gesture back at him. "GOD! ITALIAN DRIVERS ARE SO RUDE!" Germany shouted while in denial that he was to blame for their brief altercation.

Spain started to laugh while he continued to dance to the music. "Hey! I just remembered an old American joke that Alfred told me years ago about the Fiat! You know, what the letters in _Fiat _actually stand for! Wanna hear it?"

Germany nodded "yes" to Spain's question while he mad dogged the driver in front of him. Spain continued, "Okay, this is the joke – FIAT: **F**ix** I**t** A**gain, **T**ony!" Suddenly, Germany obnoxiously snorted and a powerful, deep, uncontrollable laugh escaped his throat. "Oh, God! That's a good one!" he exclaimed as he stopped focusing his attention to the driver, "Even Italy won't drive a Fiat! They break down so easily! Well, they used to at least in the past!"

All of a sudden, Spain turned his focus to the Fiat driving next to them and he started to heckle the driver. "HEY! FIX IT AGAIN, TONY!" He happily shouted and launched into a hyperactive laugh. The driver inside the Fiat stared blankly at Spain, for he did not understand what was shouted at him. He timidly pushed a button to roll up the windows and sped off. Spain continued to shout at the other drivers to the dismay of Germany. He did not want to draw too much negative attention to themselves, especially since they were visitors in a foreign country.

"FIX IT AGAIN, TONY!"

"STOP IT, SPAIN!"

"FIX IT AGAIN, TONY!"

"SHUT UP! IT'S NOT FUNNY ANYMORE!"

"FIX IT AGGGGAAAAAAAIIIIIINNNN, TOOOOOONNNNNNYYYYYYY!"

"VERDAMMT! (DAMN IT!) I TOLD YOU TO SHUT UP!"

"FIX IT AAAAAGGGGGGGAAAAAA-…MMPPHH!" Suddenly, Spain's mouth was muzzled by Germany's gloved hand. "THAT'S ENOUGH!" Germany angrily shouted.

* * *

The military vehicle sped through the isolated, dirt road of Bagno a Ripoli. They were the only ones driving on the road to the relief of Germany. There was nobody for Spain to randomly heckle at. Both nations admired the spacious, gorgeous, rustic scenery and the stone cobbled homes that were distances apart from one another. The sun was beginning to set in the distance and its reddish-orange hue illuminated the golden grassland hillsides and the tall Cypress trees of the terrain. Bango a Ripoli was rather elevated in certain points and Germany had to mess around with the gears in order to drive up the steep, nonexistent road.

By the time Germany and Spain were close to their destination, the sun departed and Bagno a Ripoli was descended into darkness. There were no streetlights to guide their way down the path and they only had the moonlight to spotlight upon them and the headlights of the vehicle. Finally, they had reached their destination as to where the Italy Brothers were located. The pinpoint on Siri and the GPS indicated that they were at somebody's private property – more specifically, they were at a family-owned winery that was operated by The Zoccolitto Family. Their sunbaked cobbled stoned mansion stood in the center of a monumental Concord grape vineyard. A wide dirt pathway was at the center of the property, which led to the luxurious household. A stoned wall encircled and protected the acres of land and at the entryway stood wrought iron gates.

Germany quickly turned off the headlights. He changed gears and quietly drove in reverse. He parked the car at the side of the dirt road a couple of feet away from the property and he turned off the ignition. The silence of the countryside bestowed upon them. The monotonous chirps of crickets could be heard at a distance and the palpitations of both nations' hearts pounded inside their inner ears. They were both filled with a mixture of excitement and anxiety over their traveling accomplishment. They were finally _here!_

Germany opened a compartment that was in-between himself and Spain and he pulled out a container of camouflage face paint. He looked at his reflection from the right side-view mirror and he vigorously smeared the goop onto his fair face. After he was finished, he looked over to Spain. "Here, put this on," he insisted as he handed him the container. Spain timidly took the container out of Germany's hand and gawked at him. "Camouflage face paint? I don't think that's really necessary – "

"I SAID PUT IT ON!" Germany ordered in a fit of rage. Spain immediately unscrewed the lid, dunked his hand inside it, scooped out some goop and slapped it on his own face. He hurriedly smeared it all over himself and once he was finished, he saluted Germany. "¡SÍ, SEÑOR!" (YES, SIR!) he cautiously, yet loyally cried out.

Germany reached into the same compartment and pulled out a pair of black binoculars. He used them to get a better look toward the winery/home and gathered up details of the exterior. He sternly let out a sigh and looked into Spain's exquisite emerald eyes. "This is what we have to do," Germany said, then he pointed toward the stone cobbled wall, "We have to climb over that wall and crawl ourselves through the vineyard. From here, I can see that some of the lights inside the house are off. That means that probably Italy, Romano and whoever lives here are visiting outdoors in the backyard. We must make our way to the posterior end of the house as _discreetly_ as possible. God knows what may happen to us if we're caught. Understand?"

"¡SÍ, SEÑOR!" Spain said again as he stared straight ahead. Germany nodded at Spain as he positioned his binoculars' strap around his neck. He went into full military mode and he signaled the Spaniard to follow him. "_LET'S GO!_" he hissed and he ran toward the wall. He jumped up and grabbed a hold of the wall and effortlessly pulled himself up by the power of his upper arm strength. Once he was over the wall, he landed on his feet on the other side and he crawled on his belly into the vineyard. With the aid of his black garments and the camouflage paint on his face, Germany had successfully blended into the environment.

Spain watched what had just happened and he was intimidated by what he was expected to do. He decided that it was too difficult for him to repeat Germany's actions and instead, he walked down toward the iron gates and had the audacity to open it to let himself inside the property. He then closed the gates behind him and he casually walked down the dirt path toward the mansion. Germany was continuing his crawl through the damp earth until he realized that Spain was neither behind him nor by his side. He carefully peered through the vines and to his horror he witnessed Spain walking down the pathway. Germany quickly crawled out of the vineyard and rushed over to Spain. _"GET DOWN!" _he hissed and he tackled him onto the ground. _"What the HELL do you think you're doing?!"_ he angrily scolded in a hushed voice as he pinned Spain to the ground.

_"I couldn't do what you did back there, climbing over the wall and such!"_ Spain nervously stated. His cheeks blushed a vibrant shade of pink from having Germany's muscular body mounting on top of him.

_"Did you even make an __attempt__ to climb over the wall?!"_

_"Well…uh, no. No, I didn't."_

_"GET INTO THE VINEYARD!" _Germany quietly barked as he sat up and tugged on Spain's arm. Spain hesitantly resisted and protested. _"I…I don't want to! I don't want my clothes to get dirty!"_ he said as he stared at Germany's muddied clothes and boots. Germany furiously gripped onto Spain's thin legs and forced him into the vineyard by dragging him in. _"TOO BAD! GET IN HERE!"_ he ordered as he pulled Spain on his belly side. Spain's gloved hands scraped the rich soil as he was being dragged into the vineyard. _"NOOOOO!"_ he protested as his fingertips left indentations on the soil as evidence of his struggle.

Once both nations were together inside the vineyard, they began their cautious journey through it. Instead of crawling on the ground again as before, Germany remained standing and he quietly stepped forward and he gripped the grapevines for support and balance. Spain mimicked his friend's technique. They both remained silent until Spain suddenly gripped on something that he could not see in the dark. Again, without any consideration for his life or the life his partner-in-crime, Spain whipped out his cellphone and turned on the screen so he could see what he was touching. He gasped with excitement when he recognized that his hand was holding onto a pair of ripe Concord grapes. "¡Uvas!" (Grapes!) He muttered as he pulled the entire bunch off the vine and he began to consume the sweet, plump, purple fruit.

Germany turned around and fumed at Spain for being careless again. _"TURN OFF YOUR CELLPHONE!"_ he hissed in a harsh whisper. Spain obeyed and he turned off the phone. _"Hey, Germany! These grapes are delicious! Want some?"_ Spain asked as he continued his journey through the vineyard.

Germany stopped again and glared at him. _"YOU THIEF! STOP EATING THOSE GRAPES! THIS ISN'T YOUR PROPERTY!"_ he furiously ordered. Spain rolled his eyes and he suddenly took off his wool hat to use as a baggy to hold his grapes, plus all the other bunches of grapes that he quickly pulled off the vines. Germany walked forward again only this time to stop for a third time. _"You make a __terrible spy_!" he disgustingly whispered to Spain and then continued to walk.

_"PFFT! Whatever,"_ Spain whispered as he cradled his swollen wool hat and resumed his consumption of grapes. Both men walked quietly through the vineyard. As they both realized that they were halfway across and almost nearing the exterior side of the mansion, their hearts palpitated again with anticipation. All of a sudden, though, the lights of a passing automobile beamed across the lateral side of the mansion. Both Germany and Spain ducked as the light shifted across the stoned wall. Neither one could tell if the vehicle was showing up to the household or it was just passing by. When it seemed as if the coast was clear, both men in unison stood up and peeked through the vines in an Old Timey cartoon fashion; their eyes nervously glancing to their left side, than to their right side. Then, they slowly concealed their faces behind the thick vines once more.

Onward they walked toward the exterior side of the house. As they did so, they observed how suddenly _bright_ their surroundings were becoming. As they tiptoed closer, they also noticed at how _loud_ it was becoming, too, with the voices of various people talking, laughing and arguing with one another. Then, a familiar voice jubilantly resounded and the sound of this sweet, innocent voice tugged at Germany's heartstrings.

"VEEEEEEEE~!"

_"I-ITALIA!"_ Germany exclaimed and he immediately rushed further up the vineyard until he finally had a perfect lateral view of the backyard. He was about three hundred feet across from it. He went down onto his knees and he carefully parted the grapevines apart with his gloved hands in order to see the view. Spain rushed up behind him and he also went down on his knees next to his friend. He placed down his grape-filled wool hat onto the ground and he parted his portion of grapevine in order to see, too. Both men suddenly glanced to one another with wonderment at what they were both witnessing and then they turned their focus back to it.

In the backyard was an enormous wooden arbor that was beautifully intertwined with white Christmas lights and grapevines. Luscious Concord grapes naturally hung out above the dining guests. Beneath the arbor were three separate tables. One long table was specifically for dining and it was draped with white tablecloth. Its surface was crowded with numerous lit white candles sitting inside oversized glass candleholders, dinnerware and dozens of different kinds of delicious, homemade Italian meals. There were also many wine decanters and wine glasses distributed on the table. The second table under the arbor was a simple, squared surface table being occupied by four middle-aged men. They were using the table to play card games. The third table was a mini version of the long dining table and children were occupying it. _Twenty-four energetic grandchildren_ to be exact, ranging from ages three to ten years old. A young, adolescent girl with long, brown hair and dressed in a long denim skirt and a red blouse was burdened with the responsibility of monitoring the children's table. Across from the arbor was the patio with its lights on and resting on the patio deck were many types of traditional Italian instruments.

Several members of the Zoccolitto family were occupying the long dining table: Padre and Madre Zoccolitto, aunts, uncles, cousins and children and grandchildren in their adolescence. At the heads of the long table sat two elderly people – Nonno and Nanna Zocccolitto. (Grandfather and Grandmother). Sitting at the median part of the long table were the Italy Brothers themselves; their suit jackets and ties were draping over their chairs and both Italy and Romano had their dress shirts casually buttoned down. Romano's golden crucifix and Cornicello were visibly seen around his neck.

The atmosphere in the backyard was festive and vibrant due to the multiple loud conversations that were taking place. Some members of the family were playfully singing songs out of tune and clapping a beat to one another. The Italy Brothers were heavily involved in conversation and laughing amongst other family members. Romano was visibly intoxicated from his overconsumption of red wine and his high-pitched hiccups were clearly audible in the bellowing crowd. One man from the square table began shouting accusations of cheating at another card player. The grandchildren at the children's table were hyperactively bratty and they were consuming their delicious food in an untimely fashion. Nonno Zoccolitto silently observed his humongous family with love as he sipped his glass of homemade red wine. Everybody, including the little children, were passionately gesturing their hands as they spoke with one another.

_"Who __are__ these people?!"_ Germany whispered to Spain in a perplexed tone.

_"I…I have __no idea!__ I've never seen any of them in my life!"_ Spain answered. His mouth was widening into a cheesy grin as he watched everybody talking to one another. _"Dios Mio! Look at their hand gestures! They're flapping away so fast that I can't catch up! Hey, do you understand their 'sign language'?"_ Spain excitedly asked as he nudged Germany's right side with his left elbow.

Germany raised his right-gloved hand and began to mindlessly gesture it in a "so-so" motion. _"Eh, sort of…"_ he started to say until he realized what his hand was doing. He immediately cringed and he lowered his right hand by pushing it down with his left hand. Spain quietly chuckled at Germany's actions. _"Ha! I catch myself doing hand gestures sometimes, too!"_ He then turned his attention to the family again and he started to interpret what each hand gesture represented. _"Okay, that guy just said to that other guy that he's 'crazy!' Oh-oh-oh! See that woman there? Right there? She just gestured to that other guy that he's an 'idiot!' Oh, see that one guy there...Hey! Are you listening to me?!"_

Germany was not paying attention to Spain's lesson. Instead, his gaze was lovingly transfixed on his cherished Italy. He looked so handsomely irresistible sitting under the warmly candlelit arbor and his captivating presence made Germany's heart skip a beat. _"Mein Gott!"_ he lustfully whispered to himself as he held up his binoculars to get a closer look. Spain released a slow, contented sigh. _"I know,"_ he said as his emerald eyes sparkled with affection, _"Isn't __Romano__ the most sweetest thing you've ever seen?!"_

Germany violently flinched by Spain's statement and his binoculars plopped against his chest. The thought of himself admiring Romano nauseated him. _"I was looking at Italy, you jerk!"_ he insisted. Suddenly, Spain gripped the binoculars and yanked it toward himself, which caused Germany to forcefully lean against the nation. Spain eagerly glanced through the binoculars and watched Romano at the dinner table. _"Mi chico tomate is so gorgeous tonight! Awww! Look! He's blushing! Is he drunk?!" _His question was then answered by witnessing Romano releasing an interjected hiccup. _"Awww! He is! ¡Qué muy precioso!" (How very precious!)_

_"MPPPH! Let go of my binoculars!" _Germany's muffled voice cried into Spain's moist left armpit due to his face being wedged against it. However, Spain continued to look through the binoculars as he witnessed the atmosphere at the dinner party to suddenly become silent and reserved. _"What's going on?"_ he asked.

_"Let me see!"_ Germany hissed as he forced himself away from Spain's side. He grabbed the binoculars out of his hands and he was about to look through them until Spain quickly took it out of his hands. _"No! I want to see!"_ he whined.

_"Give them to me, Antonio!"_

_"I want to use them, too!"_

_"They're mine!"_

_"Sharing is caring, you know – "_

Suddenly, the binoculars split and broke apart due to their immature tug a war with them. The upside to this situation, however, gave each nation their very own individual scope to look into. Both Germany and Spain silently looked to one another and then turned their focus toward the party as they each held up their scope to one of their eyes.

Nonno Zoccolitto was gently tapping his wine glass in order to get everyone's attention. When he did so, everyone in the backyard silenced themselves, including the young grandchildren and they all turned their full attention to the elderly man. Nonno Zoccolitto's tapping ceased and he his thin lips formed a warmhearted smile. "I am so thankful to God that I am still alive and here with you all, my dear family, in celebrating my 60th wedding anniversary to the most _beautiful woman_ in the world – my dear wife and best friend, Perlita!" he said in a soft, scratchy voice as his hands gestured outwardly to his beloved. Everybody began to give enthusiastic applause and cheers for this wonderful achievement. Nonno Zoccolitto looked over to the children's table and he teased his young grandchildren. "In case you don't know, I'm talking about your sweet Nonna!" The grandchildren began to giggle excitedly over this obvious revelation. Two little girls stood up and rushed over to their Nonna Zoccolitto and lovingly embraced her at waist level.

The grandfather continued his speech, "This evening is even more joyous because not only is the entire family here, but also _the Fathers_ of our great nation – Veneziano and Romano, have joined us in the celebration!" He glanced kindly toward Italy and Romano who were both smiling from flattery. "Grazie for attending tonight under such short notice! You honor us with you presence!"

"Vee~! We're delighted to be here, Mr. Zoccolitto! Grazie for the invitations!" Italy happily exclaimed and Romano nodded in agreement as another hiccup escaped from his mouth.

Unexpectedly, an aunt spoke up to tease Romano. "Somebody _really_ likes our wine!" Everyone began to light-heartedly laugh at him and Romano's cheeks flushed even brighter. An uncle quickly joined in to make a comment, "And he should, too! It's the best wine in all of Tuscany! I'll be glad to give you a case to take home if you like, Romano!"

"Grazie! I'd really *hic!* appreciate it!" Romano answered.

Nonno Zoccolitto then decided it was time to make a toast. He weakly tried to stand up from his seat but could not do so. Family members who sat closest to him immediately assisted him and he was finally able to proudly stand as head patriarch of the family. Everybody, including the grandchildren, stood up from their seats and the adolescents and adults held up their glasses of wine.

He stared across from Nonna Zoccolitto and grinned as he shakily held up his wine glass. "Ti amo, mia moglie bella! (I love you, my lovely wife!)" He then made eye contact to members of his legacy and also to both Italy and Romano. "Alla Famiglia! Salute!" (To Family! Cheers!) Everybody informally cheered and rejoiced as they clinked each other's glasses. "ALLA FAMIGLIA! SALUTE!" everyone shouted. Afterwards, everyone merrily continued their delicious food and the sounds of utensils clanking against the dinner plates could be heard throughout the backyard. While everyone had just sipped a portion of their red wine during the toast, Romano guzzled his wine down in one gulp, thus increasing his alcoholic buzz.

Meanwhile, both Germany and Spain commented to one another as they were spying on the Italy Brothers. _"I wonder who the old man is?"_ Spain asked.

_"He's probably The Godfather to them,"_ Germany responded as he relied on Old Italian stereotypes to explain the situation to Spain. Sadly, Spain trusted his friend's irrational suggestion and he gasped in awe. _"Wow! Just like in the movies!" _he cried. While he continued to spy on the party, his left hand reached into his wool hat and he plucked off a couple of grapes to eat. Germany briefly looked away from the party and took notice of the grapes. He was beginning to feel hungry and he decided that it was the perfect time to devour their evidence. He plucked off some grapes and he put them in his mouth. As he chewed, he let out a deep moan of satisfaction. _"Mmm! These grapes are good!" _he declared.

_"I told you so!"_ Spain said as he plucked off more grapes to eat. _"Should I pull off some more bunches to take with us on the road?"_

_"Nein, don't do that! It isn't right!"_ Germany insisted and he suddenly felt a tinge of guilt for eating some grapes. Spain grinned at him and he nudged him with his elbow. _"Don't feel bad, Ludwig! Look! We're surrounded with grapes! They have plenty! What's so wrong if we decide to help ourselves to a tiny sample of their stock?"_

_"Well…I guess we could take just a few bunches," _Germany answered with some hesitance to his tone.

_"¡Muy bien! (All right!) I'll be sure to gather up our bulk when we leave!"_

Both nations then turned their attention to the party again and they held up their scopes to get a closer look at Italy and Romano. After what seemed to be forever, everybody at the party had finished their dinner courses. The atmosphere was still incredibly joyous and everybody was having a great time. When the perfect opportunity for dessert came up, all the women – with the exception of Nonna Zoccolitto, got up and gathered up all the empty plates and used utensils. They also paid attention as to who needed more wine and they would pour another serving for the men. Italy is traditionally a patriarch society and it was expected of the women to serve them and gather their dishes on their behalf.

"C'mon, where are the desserts?! _We're starving here!_" said one husband to his wife at the square table as she picked up his plates. She found it hard to believe his protests of hunger after he had eaten his _fourth_ serving of lasagna. "It's on its way! Be patient!" she lovingly said as she poured him and the other card players more wine. After all the women had in possession all the plates from the men and children, their faux doting smiles disappeared as they turned around and struggled to haul the piles of dirty dishes to the kitchen. Once inside the kitchen, they placed the dirty dishes in the sink and began chattering complaints to one another.

"Look at this mess!"

"The men _eat too much!_ I can't believe this!"

"If only they could be in our shoes for one day and carry out _our_ _duties_ for once!"

"If that happened, _nothing would get done!_"

All the women and adolescent girls started to giggle amongst one another. Then suddenly, Madre Zoccolitto clapped her hands to get everyone's attention. She stood out from the other women due to her beautiful dyed platinum blond hair that was teased in a French twist. "All right, ladies! Gather up the serving trays! Get going and make the cappuccino! Put the cookies in the baskets! _Be careful_ with the tiramisu! It took me forever to make it! Don't forget the cannoli!"

Once everything was perfectly prepared, the women held their trays of precious desserts and coffees and Madre Zoccolitto and her sister held onto the serving tray possessing the humungous loaf of tiramisu. Then, they paraded out to the backyard and the men and children vigorously clapped, whistled and praised them. _" AHHH! BRAVO! BRAVO! BELLISIMO! WHAT A CAKE! VEEEEEEEE~!"_

Meanwhile, both Germany and Spain's stomachs growled in protest as they witnessed all the marvelous, succulent desserts and coffee being brought out. _"Aye! Everything looks muy delicioso! (very delicious!) I want some of tiramisu!" _Spain whined.

_"Me too…"_ Germany muttered as he watched the women begin serving everybody. _"That cannoli look so scrumptious! You know, Italy makes great cannoli. I'll ask him to whip up some and I'll give you a dozen of them. I swear to Gott, es ist wunderbar!" (It is wonderful!)_

_"Wow! ¡Gracias! That would be great!" _Spain cheerfully answered. _"I'll be sure to give you something special as well! Romano can make fantastic…umm…well…" _he struggled to think of what type of baked specialty Romano made. Then it dawned to him – Romano was a terrible cook! Spain's cheeks blushed with embarrassment beneath his camouflage makeup and he grinned at Germany. _"Eh-heh! I'll fry up some homemade churros for you!"_ he exclaimed.

_"Danke! I look forward to eating them."_

Back at the party, the women were finishing up serving everybody. While this was happening, one of the little boys sitting at the children's table kept staring intently toward the Italy Brothers. He was only five years old, but he understood how important those two men were to his family, to his people and to himself. He wanted to talk to them, but he was too frightened to do so. After long consideration however, he realized that the party was eventually coming close to ending and he did not want to waste any more time. He bravely stood up from his seat, scooped up some tiramisu to consume and he slowly walked up to the adult dining table.

Once he was there, he tiptoed up to the Italy Brothers and he silently stood in-between their seats. He tried to get the nations' attention by clearing his throat, but he was not noticeable because the adults were having loud conversations. The petite boy decided to do something daring to get their attention. He raised his arms and his tiny hands firmly gripped onto Italy's right arm sleeve and Romano's left arm sleeve. Once he held onto them, he roughly tugged three times. Instantly, both Italy and Romano looked over to see who was touching them.

"Ciao!" Italy happily greeted as he and his older brother smiled at the little boy. The child looked at both nations' faces seriously and his big, brown eyes widened. "I'm the _greatest_singer in the world!" he said.

"YOU ARE?! *hic!*" Romano shouted with exaggeration. He was not trying to patronize the little boy in any way. His overconsumption of alcohol really made the boy's testimony truly unbelievable to him.

The little boy nodded his head enthusiastically to Romano. "Of course I am!" he proudly stated. Italy started to giggle and he gently caressed the boy's wavy, brown tresses. "What's your name, sweetie?" he asked. The little boy grinned up at the nation and he blushed. "My name is Pepino!" he exclaimed.

Both Italy and Romano looked at each other, then to the child and they both began to fuss over him. _"Awww! Pepiiiiiiiinnnnnnooooo!" _they both said in unison and Romano's baritone voice and Italy's tenor voice perfectly harmonized together. Romano gently pinched the boy's chubby cheeks with his hands. "Just like the little mouse!" he drunkenly said as he pinched. He was referring to the character Pepino the Italian Mouse from a children's song sung by Lou Monte. Italy reached over to lift up Pepino and he settled him onto his lap. "So you really like to sing, huh?" he asked.

"Sì! I'm good, too!" Pepino said. His relatives took notice of his presence at their table and at the special treatment he was receiving from their prestigious guests. "He's telling the truth! He is good!" said an adolescent male cousin.

"How good are you?" asked an aunt as she was serving dessert. "Are you as good as Pavarotti, the famous opera singer?" Pepino raised his arms and formed his tiny hands into fists. "GREATER THAN PAVAROTTI!" he victoriously shouted.

Italy laughed and he lovingly embraced the little boy. "Vee~! Are you greater than Bocelli?" he asked. He was referring to another famous opera singer. Pepino looked up to the nation and he raised his arms again. "GREATER THAN BOCELLI!" he shouted. All the adults and some of the children from afar started to amusingly laugh at Pepino's cuteness.

"Are you greater than *hic!* _Sinatra?_" Romano slurred. Before Pepino could respond, an uncle gasped and interrupted his nephew. "_Nobody _is greater than _Ol' Blue Eyes!_" he cried and suddenly, everyone began to laugh. Romano especially was laughing out of control; he was so drunk that everything was ten times funnier to him than it really was. As this was going on, both Italy and Romano were served hot cups of cappuccino and slices tiramisu by a young woman. Another woman carefully placed a basket filled to the brim with Italian cookies and a tray of cannoli in front of them.

"Grazie!" both Italy Brothers said and they helped themselves to some cannoli. "Do you want me to serve you, Pepino?" Italy asked.

"No, thanks! I'm full!" Pepino answered as he patted his belly. Finally, all of the women returned to their seats and helped themselves to some dessert. Pepino's mother, Madre Zoccolitto sat across from the Italy Brothers and she winked at her little boy. "My son is very talented! He wants to be a contestant on The X Factor!" she said boasting with pride.

"That's right!" Pepino cried in agreement. "I'm gonna be on the show and I'll sing every week and I'll be the WINNER!" Everyone launched into invigorating clapping and cheering for their little dreamer – everyone _except_ Padre Zoccolitto. Pepino's father overheard what his young son had said and he unexpectedly stood up and walked over to the dining table. "_Not this again!_ I thought I told you to quit encouraging this behavior!" he scolded his wife as he stood behind her seat.

"Darling, please! Don't bicker with me in front of company!" Madre Zoccolitto sternly pleaded to her husband.

Padre Zoccolitto gestured with his hands for Pepino to leave. "Go back to your seat over there, son."

Pepino's enthusiasm suddenly disappeared and his personality became melancholy. His lips formed a plump pout and they began to tremble with emotion. He could sense the presence of warm, fresh tears welling up in his eyes. He was about to slide off the nation's lap and walk back to his seat. But to his surprise, Italy firmly, yet tenderly held onto him and prevented him from leaving his side. "What's the matter, Mr. Zoccolitto? You don't support your son's dream?" Italy innocently asked.

"Well, umm…" Padre Zoccolitto hesitantly spoke as he could see everyone's eyes glancing over to look at him. "…I don't actually. I really don't," he bluntly answered. Everyone looked to one another and then glared toward Padre Zoccolitto. Italy was surprised by Pepino's father's response and he decided to probe for some more information. "How come you don't want Pepino to sing?" he asked.

"He doesn't _need_ to sing!" the father insisted as he looked to his little boy. "Pepino! Why won't you let it go? Your future is right here! You'll be making wine for your people just like our family has done for the last ten generations!" He then extended his arms outward and continued to speak. "All of this will be yours someday, son! This is your inheritance! _Our little empire!_ Why would you want to give all this up just for a lousy fifteen minutes of fame on television?!"

Few members of the family simply nodded their heads in agreement to Padre Zoccolitto while other family members sneered and remarked to one another in hushed tones. His wife rolled her eyes and gestured her hands with annoyance over her husband's opinion. Italy looked to Pepino to see his reaction and he was touched by the boy's sulking face. He gently patted his hand against the boy's chubby cheeks and spoke. "Forgive me, Mr. Zoccolitto…but why can't he do _both?_" Italy kindly asked. Pepino's face suddenly transformed into a blissful grin and he wrapped his tiny arms around the nation's neck. He was absolutely grateful for having Italy be on his side.

Padre Zoccolitto watched his son's reaction and his frown deepened. "It's not good for him, Veneziano. Please understand, I'm just looking out for the best interest for my son. Why, if I allow him to get too deeply involved in performing arts it'll just turn him into a _sissy!"_

_"That's enough! How dare you say that!"_ his wife hissed as she turned around to look at her husband.

Romano's glazed over eyes suddenly widened with shock from the father's use of the word _sissy._ He knew that his younger brother _despised_ that word because he had been countlessly labeled a sissy while he was growing up. Romano was even guilty of calling him a sissy during their childhood. He looked next to Italy with great expectations for how he would be reacting to Padre Zoccolitto's comment. _'Ohhhh shit!'_ he mentally thought to himself.

Italy's oblique eyebrows expressed disappointment over Pepino's father's comment. His closed eyes stared at the father and he muttered a response to him. "Oh…I see," he said. Although his demeanor was calm and reserved, internally his blood was boiling with intensity and his ancient heart palpitated. Italy was never the type to express his anger to anybody because he felt that it was such negative energy. However, his kindheartedness was being tested by this complicated situation. Italy was blessed with longevity, but he understood that Pepino was not. He could not bare the thought of having this sweet, innocent little boy censor himself for the rest of his short life for the sake of his father's foolish insecurities.

Suddenly, Italy formed an enthusiastic smile and he looked into Pepino's dark eyes. "I want to hear you sing! Can for perform a song for us?" he happily asked. Pepino's eyes widened by the nation's suggestion and he looked to him in astonishment. "R-Really?! You wanna hear me?!" he gasped. The rest of the family and especially Pepino's mother encouraged him to perform. Italy embraced the petite child and he softly answered him. "Of course I do! So does my brother!"

"THAT'S RIGHT! *hic!* SING FOR US! GO ON! *hic!*" Romano cried as he shakily held up his wine glass to the boy's honor.

Padre Zoccolitto shook his head in disapproval. "No! I can't allow this to happen – "

"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Nonno Zoccolitto suddenly shouted in his scratchy voice, "Let the boy sing! Just because _you lack talent_ doesn't give you the right to stifle _his!_" Romano abruptly slammed his hand on the dining table and he pointed toward the elderly man. _"OOOOOOHHHHH!_ _THAT'S __TRUE!__" _he drunkenly shouted. Everyone cracked up into bellowing laughter over his dramatic reaction. Pepino's face blushed from all the support he was receiving and he stood himself up on Italy's lap. "I need a stage!" he cried.

"Here! Take our table!" said one of the men sitting at the square table and he and the other three players stood up from their seats and lifted the heavy wooden table to the dining table. Nonna Zoccolitto relinquished her seat so that the table could be placed there and she walked to the other end to sit next to her beloved husband. Italy eagerly picked up Pepino and rushed up to the square table. He carefully placed him onto its surface and backed away from the boy's "stage". Pepino proudly stood on the table and smiled at everyone until he realized he did not know what song to perform. "What song should I sing?" he asked. Everyone groaned and cackled by this ironic situation. Romano suddenly brought his hands up to his face and shouted toward the boy. "SING THE MOUSE SONG! *hic!*" he demanded.

Suddenly, it dawned to Pepino's mother which song her precious son should perform. "Pepino! Remember which song you said you'd sing if you auditioned for The X Factor? Sing 'L'italiano'!" (The Italian) She was referring to a famous and beloved Italian 80's song by Toto Cotugno. Everyone began to express their love for the song and Pepino grinned from ear to ear and he nodded to his mother. Then, some of his uncles and adolescent male cousins got up from the table and headed to the patio. They gathered up their traditional Italian instruments and readied themselves to perform for their little singer. The little children abandoned their table and gathered around Pepino's table with anticipation for the show he was going to give them. His father stubbornly grabbed an empty chair and sat next to his wife with his arms crossed.

Meanwhile, both Germany and Spain watched everything that was unfolding behind the vineyard. _"Looks like they're going to play music," _said Germany as he looked through the scope.

_"¡Muy bien! Why is the boy standing on the table? Is he going to sing?"_

_"Probably."_

_"¡Aww! ¡Qué lindo! (How cute!)"_ They both could suddenly hear the men begin playing the introduction of the song. When it was time for Pepino to sing, the little boy began to position his arms and pretended to be strumming a guitar in his hands. Everyone started to clap to the tempo of the music and they smiled toward Pepino.

Lasciatemi cantare

(Allow me to sing)

con la chitarra in mano

(with the guitar in hand)

Lasciatemi cantare

(Allow me to sing)

sono un Italiano!

(I'm Italian!)

Everybody began to give applause and rejoiced to the introduction of the song. Pepino continued to sing and he began to dance on the table.

Buongiorno Italia gli spaghetti al dente

(Good Morning, Italy with your spaghetti al dente.)

e un partigiano come Presidente

(and a Partisan for a President)

con l'autoradio sempre nella mano destra

(With the car-radio always in the right hand)

e un canarino sopra la finestra

(and a canary over the window)

* * *

Buongiorno Italia con i tuoi artisti

(Good Morning, Italy, with your artists)

con troppa America sui manifesti

(With too much America on the posters)

con le canzoni con amore con il cuore

(With the songs with love and heart)

con piu' donne sempre meno suore

(With more women and less nuns)

* * *

Buongiorno Italia

(Good Morning, Italy)

Buongiorno Maria

(Good Morning, Maria)

con gli occhi pieni di malinconia

(With sad eyes full of melancholy)

Buongiorno Dio

(Good Morning, God)

lo sai che ci sono anch'io!

(You know that I'm here, too!)

Everybody was continuing to clap along to the tempo of the song and they expressed their favorite lines of the song by whistling and shouting acclimations. When the chorus was coming up, everybody sung along with little Pepino. The tiny singer did indeed have a good voice. He sung in tune and with a great passion to his voice. Padre Zoccolitto's heart was beginning to soften for his son and he felt a sense of pride for his God-given talent. The family encouraged Italy to sing a mini solo of the chorus and he gladly did so. After all, this was a song celebrating himself and his brother. His angelic, tenor voice sweetly, yet powerfully sung the lyrics to the song and everybody wildly clapped and wowed over him.

Everyone: Lasciatemi cantare

(Let me sing)

con la chitarra in mano

(with the guitar in my hand)

Italy: lasciatemi cantare una canzone piano piano

(Let me sing a song, softly, softly)

* * *

Everyone: Lasciatemi cantare

(Let me sing)

perche' ne sono fiero

(because I am proud)

Italy: sono un italiano

(I'm an Italian)

un italiano vero!

(A true Italian!)

_"Did you hear Italy sing?! Oh, mein Gott! His voice is so wunderschön! (beautiful!)" Germany excitedly whispered to Spain as he nudged him with his right elbow. "My Italia is so talented!"_

_"Si, his voice is very nice," _Spain contently stated.

_"Nice? NICE?! ARE YOU DEAF?! HE WAS BRILLIANT!"_ Germany angrily hissed at the nation.

_"Si, he was! But wait until you listen to mi tomate sing! His singing voice is magnífico! (magnificent!)" _Spain proudly stated.

Germany arched one of his eyebrows and sneered at Spain. _"Romano…can sing?" _Spain grinned at him and nodded. _"¡Si! He can really carry a tune!"_ he said. Germany was choking with quiet laughter and his blue eyes were tearing up. _"Oh, please! The only thing that he can carry is a __grudge!_"

Spain smirked at the nation and he pointed his gloved hand at him. _"Wanna make a bet? _€10 if Romano sings better than Italy!" (€10 – 10 Euros = roughly $12 US). Germany scoffed at him and he rolled his eyes. _"Make it _€50!" (€50 – 50 Euros = roughly $64 US). Spain's smirk turned into a cheesy grin and he extended his arm out. _"You're on!"_ he said. Germany slapped his palm onto Spain's hand and he firmly grasped it. They both shook on their bet and they turned their attention back to the party. Pepino was still dancing on the table and he was just beginning to sing the second half of the song.

Buongiorno Italia che non si spaventa

(Good Morning, Italy, which is not afraid at all)

*Italy and Romano look at each other and bust out laughing*

e con la crema da barba alla menta

(with the mint shaving foam)

con un vestito gessato sul blu  
(with a Gessato suit in blue)

e la moviola la domenica in TV

(And the movies on Sunday on the TV)

* * *

Buongiorno Italia col caffe' ristretto

(Good Morning, Italy, with extra-strong coffee)

le calze nuove nel primo cassette

(The new socks in the front drawer)

con la bandiera in tentoria  
(with the flag in the laundry)

e una 600 giu' di carrozzeria

(and a Seicento with an old bodywork)

*Sciento – Fiat 600 vehicle*

* * *

Buongiorno Italia

(Good Morning, Italy)

Buongiorno Maria

(Good Morning, Maria)

con gli occhi pieni di malinconia

(With sad eyes full of melancholy)

Buongiorno Dio

(Good Morning, God)

lo sai che ci sono anch'io!

(You know that I'm here, too!)

It was time to sing the chorus again and everybody was egging Romano to sing the same solo that his brother had sung. Romano drunkenly refused by nervously waving his arms in front of himself. "No! No!" he insisted, but everyone continued to push him to do it. Even Italy encouraged his brother to participate. Romano finally caved in and he sung his verses in the silkiest crooner baritone voice. All the adolescent girls – especially the girl who supervised the little children – screamed with ecstasy and swooned over him. Everybody else went crazy and cheered for the nation. Romano's face blushed crimson and he bashfully leaned over to hide his face against Italy's chest. Italy tightly embraced his older brother and he enthusiastically roared with laughter.

Everyone: Lasciatemi cantare

(Let me sing)

con la chitarra in mano

(with the guitar in my hand)

Romano: lasciatemi cantare una canzone piano piano

(Let me sing a song, softly, softly)

* * *

Everyone: Lasciatemi cantare

(Let me sing)

perche' ne sono fiero

(because I am proud)

Romano: sono un italiano

(I'm an Italian)

un italiano vero!

(A true Italian!)

Back at the vineyard, Germany's jaw dropped from the sound of Romano's singing voice. He could not believe what he was hearing. The screaming girls and the cheering did not help, either. He had definitely lost the bet. Spain cunningly grinned and he reached over and pushed up Germany's mandible, thus closing his gaping mouth. _"AHEM!"_ Spain cleared his throat and he motioned with his gloved hand for Germany to pay up. Germany reluctantly reached into his pant pocket and pulled out his wallet. He grumbled as he pulled out €50 and he slapped into Spain's hand. _"¡Gracias!"_ Spain answered and he began to count the banknotes. _"Frank Sinatra. Dean Martin. Tony Bennett. Al Martino. Lovino Vargas. Five great singers – Five great __Southern Italians!__"_ he teased. Germany's grumbling intensified as he shoved his wallet back into his pant pocket. _"I GET IT ALREADY!" _he jeered.

Finally, the song was finished and everybody gave Pepino a standing ovation. "BRAVO! BRAVO!" They shouted. The little boy proudly bowed to his audience and his face beamed with happiness. Both his parents rushed up to him and they both lovingly embraced him as he stood on the table. "You were wonderful, my son!" Padre Zoccolitto confessed as he hugged him. Pepino's eyes welled up with tears from what his father had said to him and he kissed his cheek. "Grazie, Papá!" he softly answered.

Suddenly, Nonno Zoccolitto slammed his hand against the dining table multiple times to get the band's attention. "WHY DID YOU STOP?! KEEP IT GOING! KEEP PLAYING! C'MON NOW!_TARANTELLA!"_ He shouted. Everybody feverishly cheered and whistled. "TARANTELLA!" everyone was shouting and the uncles and nephews who possessed the instruments resumed playing music. They began to play an exhilarating, fast tempo music traditionally called the Tarantella. The word itself literally translates to "Tarantula". There was a belief that if a tarantula bit somebody, that person could be spared from death by dancing for hours and sweating the poison out through the skin pores. Somehow, in time, this became a national folk dance. And tonight, everybody would be participating in dancing to it.

The sound of the beat and rattle of the tambourine dictated the fastness of the music and it accompanied itself to the other instruments playing harmoniously together: a mandolin, a piccolo, an accordion and an acoustic Spanish guitar. All at once they contributed to a wonderful, frenzied song and everybody energetically danced to it. The Italy Brothers were being bombarded by lustful adolescent girls whom they begged them to be their dance partner. Italy was immediately whisked away by one dominating girl to where the dancers partook. Romano decided to choose his biggest fan that screamed and swooned over him the loudest – the adolescent girl who presided over the children.

Despite being absolutely drunk, Romano still had his balance (for now at least) and he was able to lead the girl by the hand to where they would dance in the backyard. Once they were settled, they both began to quickly two-step in a jig-like dance. Romano passionately extended his arms outward as he danced and he twirled the girl beautifully to the percussion of the music. The adolescent girl's dark eyes sparkled as she danced with Romano. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever thought that she would be dancing with a nation, let alone having him and his brother over at their estate. She could not wait to share this magical evening to her friends tonight.

Everybody was crowded together as they danced. Even the children were participating in dancing the tarantella. Pepino remained standing on top of the table and, being the same height level as of his parents, he danced with both his mother and father. Eventually, Romano did become dizzy from the alcohol in his bloodstream and his graceful dance was becoming absurd. While he was twirling his dance partner again, he accidently bumped into Italy. Both brothers ecstatically embraced one another and screamed with laughter. Suddenly, Romano grabbed both of Italy's hands and he whirled himself and his brother in a clockwise rotation, then counter clockwise. "VEEEE~! FRATELLO! WE'RE GOING TOO FAST!" Italy cried as he giggled uncontrollably.

At the vineyard, both Germany and Spain watched everybody dancing, especially their beloved Italy Brothers. They were both speechless by the amazing spectacle that was happening only a few hundred feet away from them. Spain smiled by the sight of Romano's reckless dancing. He was so amused by his partner's unorthodox choreography. Both himself and Romano adored dancing together in the privacy of their home back in Madrid. He longed to run out of the vineyard and to join his beloved's side and engage in the merriment. _"Isn't this great?"_ Spain whispered to Germany. As he turned to look at the nation, he was stunned to see Germany being despairing as he watched the dancers. _"What's the matter, Germany?"_

Germany looked away from the party and he sadly stared down to the damp earth beneath himself. He was visibly upset and he released a deep sigh of frustration. Spain scooted himself closer to his friend's side and he compassionately rested his left hand onto Germany's right shoulder. _"Germany? What is it?"_

_"I don't understand," _Germany quietly uttered.

_"What don't you understand, Ludwig?"_

Germany looked over to Spain and he focused on his emerald eyes. _"Why is it that they don't want us to be included?" _he bluntly asked in a hushed, dejected tone. Spain tenderly caressed Germany's shoulder and his smile slowly increased. _"I don't know…but at least right now we are included. Even if it is a secret between ourselves."_

Germany's mood lightened by his friend's good point and his thin lips were forming a small smile. _"You know, you're right,"_ he answered. His right hand reached over to rub against Spain's shoulder as a way of returning the physical gesture the nation was bestowing onto him. He then brought his hand back to his own side and he turned his gaze back to the party. Spain decided that he wanted to eat more grapes. He reached into his wool hat to break off some fruit from its stem. He began to consume the grapes and while his mouth was full, he spoke to Germany. _"Hey, do you have enough gas to drive us back to your house?"_ he asked. Then, he placed another grape in-between his teeth and bit down. As he bit, grape juice suddenly shot out and squirted into Germany's right eye.

_"Ja, I think we do. I can always re- ACH! MY EYE! VERDAMNT!" _Germany suddenly shouted in a hushed tone as his right palm covered his stinging eye. _"AHHH! YOU GOT GRAPE JUICE IN MY EYE!"_

_"Oops! I'm sorry! It was an accident!"_ Spain hesitantly answered.

_"OH, GOTT! IT STINGS!"_

_"Grape juice can't be__ this__ acidic!"_

_"WELL, THESE GRAPES __ARE!__ UGGGGH!"_

_"Oh, c'mon! You're overreacting!"_ Spain then leaned even closer to Germany's side and he light-heartedly poked fun at him. He changed his voice to make it sound very gruff and outraged. _"'YOU COULD ACT LIKE A MAN! *playful slap* WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?!'" _He then immediately turned away from Germany and covered his mouth with his gloved hand as he tried to control his laughter.

_"VERY FUNNY, 'DON CORLEONE!'"_ Germany sarcastically hissed as he recognized the movie quote from The Godfather. He brought his right hand down and he carefully blinked his eyes. Spain quickly gasped as he gawked at Germany's face. _"Woah! Nasty! Your eye is really bloodshot!"_ he cried as he pointed to it.

_"IT SHOULD BE! IT HURTS LIKE HELL! DAMN YOU AND DAMN THESE GRAPES!"_ Germany unexpectedly smashed the grapes inside Spain's wool hat by slamming his fist against it. Spain was outraged by what Germany had done to his wool hat and he pushed him away from himself. _"STOP THAT!"_ he hissed as he picked up his grape juice soaked hat. Germany immediately made a comeback and he angrily grabbed a hold of Spain's hat. Both nations were yet again playing tug-a-war with each other and Germany was determined to pull the hat out of Spain's hands and to take out his fury upon it. Both Germany and Spain were becoming very physical while they were fighting. Without realizing it, they were both causing the vines in front of them to loudly rustle about.

The rustling of the vines caught the attention of the adolescent girl who was dancing with Romano. She cocked her head toward the direction of the sound and she panicked. _'Could it be one of the children?'_ she thought to herself and she immediately started to do a head count of the children she was able to see. She hurriedly walked around the dancers and counted each child. When she was able to tally off twenty-four children present in the backyard, she calmed down and smiled. But suddenly, an ominous thought shot through her head. If all the children were in the backyard, then what – or _who_ was disturbing the vines?

The teenaged girl cautiously made her way to the vineyard. As she was getting closer to the rustling vines, her stomach tightened and perspiration trickled down the sides of her face. She carefully reached over and she separated the vines apart with her hands. She frightfully gasped as the vines revealed what it was concealing from her – two rowdy nations wrestling over a damp wool hat. Both Germany and Spain were continuing their fight until Spain glanced over and froze when he made eye contact with the girl. Germany had not noticed at all and he was furiously choking Spain's neck. Spain's free arm reached upward and he forced Germany's head to turn direction to the adolescent girl. Germany immediately ceased choking Spain and both nations silently stared at her. Not a word was uttered to one another.

The girl hyperventilated and her eyes widened with dread as she stared at Germany's bloodshot eye. It was still stinging and it caused the muscles surrounding it to twitch, thus causing the eye to give a sinister look to her. She brought her left arm close to herself and she formed a Mano Cornuto with her hand and pointed it to his direction. "M-M-MALOCCHIO! MALOCCHIIIIIIOOOOOOO!" (E-E-EVIL EYE! EVIL EYYYYYE!) she shrieked and she ran back to her family in the backyard. Spain grinned to the girl and he also formed a Mano Cornuto with his hand, but for an entirely different reason because he misunderstood the relevance to the superstitious hand gesture. "ROCK ON, SISTER!" he shouted out loud.

Germany was utterly terrified. _They had been caught!_ Before he could tell Spain to shut up, they both shuddered as they heard the blood curdling screams of the Zoccolitto family and from both Italy and Romano. They witnessed everybody panicking and even little Pepino bursting into tears. The teenaged girl desperately pointed her hand over to the nations' direction behind the vineyard. Her father, uncles, cousins and the Italy Brothers peered over to where she pointed and they immediately spotted the silhouettes of two crouching men. "PRENDERE LE ARMI! _TIRARLI FURORI!_" (GET THE GUNS! _TAKE THEM OUT!_) Padre Zoccolitto shouted and some of the older men ran inside the house to retrieve their weapons. Those who already concealed their handguns in their pant pockets ran to the other side of the house.

Romano's blushed face had suddenly been drained of all color and his skin had transformed into a sickly pallid shade. His clammy hands trembled with fear and he too began to hyperventilate. "M-M-MALOOOOCCHHHIIIIOOOO! *hic!* NOOOOOOO! MIO DIO! *hic!*" he pathetically wailed and he collapsed from the excitement over the calamitous situation. Italy kneeled next to his brother and he anguished over his unconscious body. "ROMANO! WAKE UP! FRATELLO, PLEASE WAKE UP!" he cried as he roughly shook his brother by his shoulders. While this was happening, all the grandchildren were whisked away by their mothers and everybody was rushing inside the house.

Both nation's adrenaline skyrocketed inside their bodies and Germany immediately stood up. "SCHEIßE! LETS GET OUT OF HERE!" he yelled and he began bolting down the vineyard. Spain hesitantly nodded, stood up and he started to run behind him. As they were running through the vineyard, Spain suddenly panicked when he realized that he had accidentally left behind his wool hat, the half-eaten grapes and the broken binoculars. He quickly turned around and rushed back to retrieve their evidence. Germany looked behind himself as he ran and to his horror he witnessed Spain going back to where they had once settled. He darted back toward the nation's direction and when he was by his side, he aggressively prevented Spain from gathering up their things. "LEAVE IT! LEAVE IT ALL!" he ordered and he forced Spain to follow him back to the other direction. Both Germany and Spain desperately gasped for breath as they raced through the pitch-black vineyard. From a distance, they could see the cobbled-stone wall straight ahead thanks to the moonlight spotlighting upon it and once they were close to it, both men jumped up and grabbed a hold of the wall. Germany sat up on top of the wall and he reached over to lift up Spain who struggled to pull himself upward. Once both nations were on top of the wall, they leaped off of it and landed on their feet. They darted toward the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen and they both bound into the vehicle.

Germany nervously pulled out his car keys and he turned on the ignition. The vehicle's engine bellowed throughout the quiet countryside and Germany swiftly changed gears, turned on the headlights and slammed his foot onto the accelerator. He was able to make a U-turn despite the narrowness of the dirt road and the automobile dangerously sped down the road. The thick, military tires kicked up a thick trail of dust behind the vehicle as it sped away from the Zoccolitto premises.

"I-I THINK WE LOST THEM!" Germany shouted as he obsessively watched the rearview mirror as he drove. Spain positioned himself on the left-side passenger seat by sitting on his knees and gripping onto the back of the chair. He nervously watched behind and searched for any sign of anybody following them. Then, he heard the monotonous sound of multiple engines roaring up to their direction. As the tires kicked up less dirt, the view behind them started to clear up. To Spain's despair, he could see Padre Zoccolitto and four other men riding on motorcycles. Padre Zoccolitto and three of his brothers steered their motorcycles with one hand while their other hand possessed a .50 caliber pistol. The fourth man, a young teenaged nephew, cradled an AK-47 on his lap.

"DIOS MIO! THEY HAVE GUNS!" Spain cried as his emerald eyes widened by the sight of the weapons. Suddenly, Germany began to nervously cackle after hearing what Spain had informed him. The terrified nation cocked his head to Germany's direction and he gawked at him in shock. "WHY ARE YOU LAUGHING?!" he yelled.

Germany's laughter intensified as he focused on the elevated road. "THERE'S NOTHING TO FEAR, ANTONIO! ITALIANS CAN'T SHOOT! BELIEVE ME! BACK IN WWII, I ASSISTED ITALY AND HIS SOLDIERS IN TRAINING! NONE OF THEM COULD AIM! THESE GUYS WON'T BE ABLE TO HARM US! THEY WON'T EVEN BE ABLE TO SHOOT UP THE CAR! TRUST ME, WE HAVE NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT!"

At this very moment, Padre Zoccolitto raised his left arm forward and he aimed his pistol toward vehicle. He pulled the trigger and he impeccably shot off the rearview mirror. Germany's eyes widened with terror after he witnessed the rearview mirror shattering right in front of him. Any doubt that he held against the men chasing after them and their shooting abilities had been obliterated. _"HOLY SHIT! THEY CAN AIM!"_ Germany shrieked. After Padre Zoccolitto shot off the rearview mirror, the rest of men commenced in shooting up the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen and both Germany and Spain found themselves being bombarded with flying bullets. As the vehicle was being riddled with bullet holes and both side-view mirrors were shot off, both nations ducked behind their seats as they tried not to get hit. "I NEED YOU TO GO INTO THE BACK SEAT AND PULL UP THE ROOF! IT'S BULLET-PROOF!" Germany shouted as the AK-47 shot out a magazine of bullets at them.

"I…I CAN'T! I CAN'T DO IT!" Spain cried as his green eyes watered up with tears.

"YOU HAVE TO, ANTONIO! IT WILL PROTECT US! DO IT! DO IT NOW!" Germany angrily insisted. Spain loyally saluted to his friend and his trembling lips grimaced. "¡SÍ, SEÑOR!" he shouted and he dived into the backseat and, by chance, avoided being shot. Once in the backseat, he carefully stood up and reached over and grabbed the rooftop of the vehicle. He was able to manually pull it up but it remained stuck halfway. "I CAN'T CLOSE IT, LUDWIG! IT'S RUSTED!" he wailed. As he was standing upright, the AK-47 shot out a second magazine of bullets at him. Thankfully, the bullet-proof roof shielded him and he watched the metal rooftop become violently indented with lodged bullets. Spain immediately did the Sign of the Cross a multitude of times and he looked up to the beautiful starlit evening sky and thanked God for sparing him from a hideous death.

Spain then dived back to the front seat of the vehicle, but as he did so, Germany drove over a thick rock and that caused Spain to dive too much into the front seat. His backside crashed against the car radio and it turned itself on. The radio began to play inappropriate music during their epic chase – a Big Band rendition of "I Say A Little Prayer For You" by Woody Herman. As Spain ducked behind the front seat, he desperately searched underneath it for any weapons he could use to defend himself and his friend. "WHERE ARE THE GUNS?!" he yelled.

"THERE ARE _NO GUNS!_" Germany confessed. Spain's green eyes widened and dilated after hearing the ironic answer from Germany. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NO GUNS?! WE'RE RIDING INSIDE _A WARTIME MILITARY JEEP_ AND THERE ARE _NO WEAPONS?!_"

"I-I TOOK THEM OUT! THEY'RE BACK INSIDE MY GARAGE! I'M SORRY!" Germany shouted.

Spain suddenly became eerily calm and a tiny smile curled on his camouflaged face. "Oh…okay then," he quietly muttered. Then, he abruptly leaned over to Germany and he grabbed the steering wheel as he began to have a nervous breakdown. "OH, DIOS MIO! WE'RE GOING TO DIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!" he frantically wailed as he pulled the steering wheel's radius toward himself, thus causing the vehicle to suddenly make a _very _sharp left turn.

"YOU BASTARD! LET GO OF THE WHEEL – AHHHHHHH!" Suddenly, the military vehicle crashed through a simple wooden fence and they drove through somebody's private property. More specifically, they were now speeding through another family's vineyard. The inside of the car was being filled to the brim with luscious Concord grapes. Both Germany and Spain screamed as they sped through the thick vineyard. Trailing right behind them were the Zoccolitto men riding on their motorcycles and their weapons pointed to their direction.

Spain then had a brilliant idea. He bravely stood up in the speeding vehicle and he started to throw the bunches of grapes at the Zoccolitto men. As he was attacking them with the grapes, he was disappointed by the results of his attempt of diverting them. "I DON'T UNDERSTAND! THIS WORKS ON 'MARIO KART' WITH THE BANANA PEELS! WHY AREN'T THEY SLIPPING AND SPINNING?!" Spain furiously shouted. Germany released a terrible growl of frustration and he shot a glare at the nation. "BECAUSE THIS IS REAL LIFE, STUPID!" he screamed.

As the vehicle sped through the end of the vineyard, both nations suddenly realized that they were heading toward the edge of a cliff. "OH, JESUS! OH JESUS!" Germany shouted. There was nothing they could do to avoid the edge; they were speeding too fast and there was not enough time to stop. Plus, it did not help that five crazed men were pursuing them. They had no other options but to drive off of it. "H-HOLD ON TO SOMETHING, ANTONIO!" Germany ordered as his eyes trembled with fright. Spain obeyed and he tightly clutched onto Germany's torso. Germany growled with anger yet again by Spain's invasive embrace. "DON'T HOLD ON TO _ME!_" he screamed.

Then, it happened. The bullet-riddled Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen flew off the steep cliff and both Germany and Spain tightly hugged one another and sobbed. The military vehicle fell down fifty feet from the cliff. As they were descending to their supposed death, the Zoccolitto men suddenly stopped their pursuit and they epically posed at the edge of the cliff and watched the automobile plunge downward. Finally, a thunderous crash echoed throughout the countryside of Bagno a Ripoli. "Well! Sounds like they're finished!" said the cousin to one of his uncles. The men started to laugh amongst themselves until they suddenly could hear wonderful cries of jubilation beneath them.

_"W-WE'RE ALIVE! WE'RE ALIVE! WOOOOO-HOOOOO!" _both Spain and Germany happily shouted as they passionately held onto one another. Somehow, the military vehicle landed perfectly at the bottom of the cliff and it remained fully running and in one piece. Then, Germany tensed up when he realized that he was snuggling with Spain and he pushed the nation away from himself. "O-Of course we're alive!" he stubbornly uttered as he quickly wiped away any traces of tears running down his camouflaged cheeks. "This is a Volkswagen, after all! This is pure German steel we're riding on!"

Spain stood up inside the car and he looked to the direction of the Zoccolitto men at the top of the cliff. "WE SURVIVED, YOU BASTARDS! FUCK ALL OF YOOOOU!" he proudly shouted as he flipped an unflattering gesture with both his hands. The men at the cliff angrily screamed unintelligible Italian at the nations and they shot off the remainder of their rounds toward them. Germany immediately stepped on the accelerator and they made their triumphed getaway out of Bagno a Ripoli.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Author's Note: WOW! I am stunned by the replies and hits that I've received for this story! Thank you so much!

I'd like to clarify about the timeline of my story because I feel like I haven't done a good job with dates and such. I just want the reader to know that the timeline for Alla Famiglia! is between the middle of July through September and the last chapter will take place in December. So I would say that right now everything that has unfolded since Chapter 4 is the third week of July (7/21). I'll try my best to put emphasis on the calendar scheduling in future chapters.

Also, I'd like to give thanks to both 24gamefreak and Guest for mentioning that I accidentally referred to Romano as Italy's younger brother in Chapter 1. I had meant to correct that error before, but somehow I forgot to do so. So now it has been fixed.

Thank you! Now onward to Chapter 6!

* * *

"AHHHHH! MY CAR! MY WONDERFUL CAR! IT'S RUINED!" Germany shrieked as he thoroughly examined the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen inside his garage at his home in Berlin. Although the powerful engine was perfectly fine and the vehicle drove normally, the steel exterior of the vehicle was in terrible shape. It was riddled with embedded bullets and multiple indentations. The convertible hood was also dented and scarred with bullets. The glass windshield was spider webbed with splitting glass caused by lodged bullets. The rearview mirror and both side view mirrors had been blown off. Although the thick military tires were in tact, its shocks were destroyed from the impact of their incredible free-fall off the cliff side. The interior of the vehicle was still filled to the top with Concord grapes.

Germany leaned onto the warm hood and he tenderly caressed the automobile as he choked with fresh tears. "Es tut mir leid! (I am so sorry!)" he uttered as he pressed the left side of his face against the hood. A single tear trailed down his cheek and it dripped onto the steel hood. "P-please…Please forgive me! Forgive me, _Gretchen!_"

Spain stood inside the garage adjacent to Germany with his arms folded in front of his chest. His wavy locks of hair were wildly displayed on top of his head and grape stems randomly stuck through it. As he was witnessing the nation having a nervous breakdown over his beloved car, Spain arched an eyebrow as he listened to what type of pet name Germany had called it. "_Gretchen?_ You named this beast of a car _Gretchen?!_" he mocked. Germany shot a glare at the nation and he stood up straight. "What?! It's a sensual name! What's it to you?!" he cried.

"It just doesn't fit, that's all! It would be more suiting if you named it _Adolf_, or something," Spain responded as his thin lips formed a smirk. Germany scoffed at him for suggesting _that_ name for his vehicle. "Oh, ja! _Of course!_ That's the first name that _has_ to pop up inside your thick skull! How original!" he sarcastically said. He then turned his attention to his automobile with empathy and he patted his palms onto the hood. Spain decided that now would be an appropriate moment to somehow lighten the situation. "Oh, c-c'mon now, Germany! There's no need to grieve! The car is still in tip-top shape!" he falsely insisted and he gave the vehicle a gentle kick. As he kicked it however, the front steel bumper vibrated, broke off and landed onto the smooth concrete ground in a loud thud.

Germany quickly scooped up the heavy steel bumper and he cradled it in his arms. He released a deep, mournful groan and he fought back his tears from pouring out by tightly clenching his eyes shut. Spain's body cringed from the awkward situation that he had caused and he decided to keep his mouth shut. Germany began to try to refit the steel bumper back to its proper place, but it was of no use. "It's going to take me _thousands_ of Euros to get everything fixed and replaced!" he cried.

Spain broke his brief silence and he spoke to him. "It shouldn't be too bad! Just go to the dealer! I'm sure they'll have all the parts! Have them do it for you!" he gleefully said as a grin formed on his face. Germany suddenly began to shudder with rage as he was beginning to lose whatever patience he had left for the nation. "YOU IDIOT!" he screamed and he threw the steel bumper onto the ground. "This car was built _in 1940! There are no spare replacement parts!_"

"So…how can it be fixed then?" Spain asked in a perplexed tone. Germany released a heavy sigh and he compulsively ran his hands through his messed up blond locks and combed out any grape stems that remained entangled in it. "I-I have a buddy at the auto shop who can help me…I'll have to commission him and his crew to replicate the parts. It's going to be _very expensive._"

"Wow…that's too bad. That really sucks," Spain responded and his smile decreased. "And to think that all of this could have been prevented _if you hadn't smashed my hat."_

_ "WHAT?!"_ Germany shouted and he slammed his palms against the hood of the vehicle. "THIS IS YOUR FAULT! IF YOU HADN'T BEEN EATING THOSE DAMN GRAPES AND SQUIRTED JUICE IN MY EYE –"

"I told you before, that was an accident!" Spain interrupted as he rushed up to the nation's side. "I said I was sorry!"

"Ja, I'm sorry, too…" Germany trailed off as he stepped away from Spain, "I'm sorry for asking for your assistance tonight! You've been nothing but a disaster!"

"No, I haven't –"

"Of course you have! You deliberately disobeyed me numerous times tonight! You stole grapes from that family's vineyard! You didn't bother to climb over the wall! Instead, you open that family's front gates and invite yourself into their property as if were an acquaintance to them! And worse of all…WORSE OF ALL, YOU ALMOST HAD US KILLED TONIGHT WITH YOUR BUFFOONERY!"

Spain shuddered again by the accusations Germany made against him. There was nothing that he could deny. Everything that the nation brought up was true. "Okay, I get it! I fucked up! I apologize!" he cried. Germany began to pace back and fourth behind the lateral side of the vehicle and he could feel his face heating up with anger beneath his camouflage makeup. "I sympathize for Romano! Really, I do! Now I understand why he's always so pissed off all the time – he has to deal with your bullshit at a daily basis!"

_"I resent that!"_ Spain hissed as his brows formed a deep frown. Germany smirked with disgust at the nation and he glared at him. "Why?! You shouldn't! It's the truth!" he stated. Spain dejectedly looked away from Germany and he sighed with frustration. "Look, I understand that everything didn't go well tonight and you could say that it's_ partly_ my fault –"

"IT IS YOUR FAULT!" Germany shouted. Spain looked at the nation with contempt for being interrupted. His camouflaged face eventually softened though as he continued his sentence. "…However…you have to admit that what we went through tonight was _amazing!_ Admit it! Tonight was thrilling! Dios Mio, I wonder what kind of adventure we'll have next Sunday?"

"NEIN! NEIN! WE ARE NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN!" Germany screamed. Spain was stunned by Germany's insistence and his emerald eyes widened. "What?! Why not?!" he cried.

"Tonight was too much of a close call for us…it's just too dangerous, Antonio! I'm out!" Germany sternly answered.

"But…we've barely scratched the surface! We've only had a glimpse tonight of what Romano and Italy do together on Sundays! Don't you want to find out what else they do?!"

"No, I don't actually! Especially if it means I risk losing my life! I'm done!"

Spain glared at Germany and he stepped forward and he gripped his hands onto the vehicle's hood. "THEN YOU ARE A COWARD!" he shouted. Germany growled after hearing the nation's slur against him and he pointed his gloved hand toward him. "AND YOU ARE A FOOL! A DAMN FOOL!" he retorted. Spain trembled with rage from Germany's harsh words and he turned around and began to walk out of the garage. As he exited the garage, he walked outside onto the driveway toward his own vehicle, a blue SEAT IBL sports automobile.

Suddenly, Germany decided to get his attention. "HEY!" he shouted and Spain quickly turned around to face him. Germany gripped his gloved hand onto the car handle and he abhorrently shouted to him again. "AREN'T YOU FORGETTING SOMETHING?!" he shouted and he jerked the car handle and opened the car door. Suddenly, the gigantic mound of Concord grapes started spilling out of the vehicle and onto the ground.

Spain's body trembled again and he stomped back inside the garage. He aggressively scooped up as many grapes as he could possibly carry and he stubbornly transferred his keep back to his car. He tossed the fruit in the back seat and as he continued this repetition, he lectured Germany in a somber tone. "Fine! You want to go back to the way things were?! Go ahead then! Twiddle your thumbs as you anxiously watch the clock and wait for Italy to come home past midnight and _never_ giving any explanation to you as to how his day went. We're beyond that point now! We've opened the Pandora's Box, Ludwig!..."

"Antonio…" Germany softly uttered as he observed the nation. He was worried about Spain's feelings after he had realized that his actions had pushed his friend almost to his breaking point. Spain continued his rant and he compulsively scooped up the grapes off the floor. "...We've seen so much tonight! And damn it, I want to see more! I have the right to know what Romano does, especially if he's going to continue to be secretive about it!"

"That's enough, Antonio!" Germany cried as he suddenly reached over and gripped Spain by his shoulders. Spain stood still and he tightly held onto the bunches of grapes in is arms. His emerald eyes burned with emotion and his bottom lip lightly trembled. "_I love Romano! God knows I do!_ I just want to somehow be included on his outings on Sunday. I want to know that he's safe and that he'd amongst good people who won't try to hurt him. I don't know whom he associates with behind my back. I just want to know who they are. But I suppose you think this is foolish, too, don't you?!"

Germany sighed and he looked into Spain's eyes with deep sympathy. "Nein…that isn't foolish at all," he said. A couple of fresh tears escaped from Spain's watery eyes as he looked at Germany. "I'm not a fool," he said as his twitching eyebrows frowned at him, "I was once _great, wealthy and powerful. _There was a time when the Sun never set down on _my_ empire when it once existed. Don't you _ever_ forget this!"

"I won't…and I haven't," Germany said. His gloved hand tenderly wiped away the tracks of Spain's tears on his camouflaged cheeks. As he rubbed, the nation's natural skin complexion slowly revealed itself. "I'm sorry, Antonio. I'm very sorry. I've been too calloused to you tonight. Please forgive me."

Spain unexpectedly dropped the bunches of grapes he held onto the ground and he wrapped his arms around Germany's waist. Germany immediately tensed up by this sudden physical contact. However, he soon wrapped his powerful arms around Spain's body and both men silently stood inside the garage. Spain broke away from their platonic embrace and he smiled up at the nation as a single tear ran down his cheek. "I forgive you," he whispered.

"Danke," Germany said after releasing a sigh of relief. He wiped away the final tear off of Spain's cheek. As he did this, Spain gently spoke to him. "We've been through so much tonight, Ludwig. And you're right – what we did tonight was absolutely dangerous. But if you were to come to me and ask me to do it all over again, I would gladly do so."

Germany smiled at the nation and he rested his hands onto his shoulders again. "You know, you make a lousy spy. But you are a terrific friend." Spain's smile increased into a radiant grin and his bloodshot emerald eyes had life gleaming to them again. He embraced the nation once again and this time Germany did not tense up by their physical contact. He smirked at his friend and he fondly thought about him to himself. _'He's just as sensitive as Italy. Who knew.' _

"Ludwig?" Spain asked as he looked at him. Germany focused his attention away from his thoughts and back to Spain. "Ja?"

"Are…are you sure that you don't want to follow Romano and Italy anymore?" Spain asked. His eyes signaled a silent plea for Germany to reconsider the idea. But Germany conclusively nodded his head and answered, "Ja. I am sure of this," he said. Spain sighed and he briefly looked away, only to look back at Germany's blue eyes again. "Muy bein…but if you decide to change your mind please let me know. Okay?"

"Of course," Germany answered. Both nations smiled at each other and an empowering feeling of camaraderie was felt between them. Reluctantly, Spain broke away from Germany's embrace and he started to nervously chuckle. "I…I better get going. Romano could be pulling up the driveway soon to drop off his brother!"

"You're right. I have to get myself cleaned up and pretend to be oblivious about tonight," Germany said as he walked over to where he stashed the white car cover sheet. As he held it in his hands, he whipped it upward and the car cover sheet successfully draped over the disfigured automobile. Spain watched everything unfold and a tinge of panic raced through his body. "How are you going to explain the damage to your car to Italy?!" he cried.

Germany smiled at his concerned friend and he answered his question. "I don't have to. This is my personal garage. The garage next to mine is Italy's. He'll never suspect anything."

"It can't be _that_ simple!" Spain cried.

"But it is, Antonio. See, as long as I stay out of his garage, he'll stay out of mine. He has no reason to come in here anyway. There's nothing in here that he'll need that he doesn't already have stored in his own personal space."

"That's a lot of trust...are you sure he won't ever snoop?"

"Ja, I'm sure. You know, this used to be one giant garage. I had to have a designer split it into two garage rooms in order to accommodate Italy."

"Why did you have to do that?"

"Because…well, one time, I came home and parked my car in here…and I lost my balance and I accidentally rested my hand onto Italy's Lamborghini. The next thing I know, Italy's weeping and he's obsessively waxing the hand smudge off of his vehicle for an entire hour."

Spain laughed by the thought of seeing Italy buffing his vehicle while crying like a spoiled child. "That's funny!" he said. Then, another question popped up in his head and had to ask it to him. "What are you going to do about transportation?"

"I could temporarily use public transportation. I also have a Mercedes Benz stored at Prussia's house. I only drive it when I need to make public appearances with Parliament. They don't want to be seen with me driving Gretchen. Hell, even Italy doesn't want to be seen riding inside her. He doesn't like this car too well. It brings back too many painful memories of the war."

"H-how are you going to explain why you're not driving Gretchen? You won't tell Prussia about what we've done, will you? And Dios Mio, how will you afford to fix the damages to your car?! – "

"Antonio! Quit being so inquisitive!" Germany cried and he began to lightheartedly laugh. "You need to get going! Don't worry about my burdens. I can handle them. Now go! You have a long drive home and it's getting very late!"

"Muy Bien, Ludwig…¡Buenas Noches!" Spain said to Germany and his personality reverted back to his old, delightful self again. He ran out of the garage, never minding the bunches of grapes that he left behind and he got inside his car. As he turned on the ignition and switched gears, Germany suddenly called out to him again. "HEY!" he shouted and Spain quickly stuck his head out and looked behind to him. "Give me a call or a text when you've arrived at your home so I won't have to worry about you all night!" he demanded.

Spain grinned at his friend and he saluted him as he had done so many times tonight at Bagno a Ripoli. "¡SÍ, SEÑOR!" he shouted. He then winked at Germany and he sped out of the driveway and drove down the direction that will lead him home.

* * *

Hours had passed after Spain's departure. Germany was sitting in the living room with the television on, but he was not paying any attention to what it was broadcasting. He was wearing his usual nighttime attire that consisted of a black tank top and grey shorts. He was only up for two reasons: he was waiting for Spain to contact him and he was waiting for Romano to pull up the driveway to drop off Italy. Germany had become impatient for waiting on three individuals and his blue eyes were constantly staring at the clock. He slowly released a sigh of annoyance as he leaned over to the coffee table in front of him and grabbed his third bottle of beer. As he brought the glass bottle to his lips and began to swallow its contents, he looked over to the sleeping animals who had gathered together in the living room to be by his side as they, too waited for Italy to come home.

"What's taking them so long?" he asked himself out loud as he placed the beer bottle down onto the coffee table. "I hope nothing has gone wrong…Gott, please let them be okay…even –sigh– Romano."

Suddenly, as if God had overheard the nation's plea, Gemany's cellphone began to ring. Germany quickly retrieved the cellphone from the coffee table and he looked at who was calling him on the screen. It was Spain. He answered it and brought the phone to his ear. "Spain! Hallo!" he asked.

_"¡Hola! I just got home! I called to let you know like you told me to!"_

"Good! How was the drive?"

_"It wasn't so bad, I guess. It was long, though. Hey, how long ago did Romano leave your place after he dropped off his brother? Because he isn't here!"_

"T-they haven't arrived at my house yet."

_"WHAT?!"_ Suddenly, Germany heard the audible sound of Spain's keys being dropped onto the ground. As Spain quickly picked them up, he spoke again as he began to unlock the front door to his home. _"What's taking them so long?! Look how late it is! It's almost 2AM! ¡Dios Mio! You don't suppose…something bad has happened to them, do you?"_

"OH, GOTT DON'T SAY THAT!" Germany shouted into the receiver. His loud voice suddenly woke up the animals from their slumber and they all groggily looked at him. Germany motioned them with his free hand to go back to sleep and he quickly stood up from the couch and walked out of the living room. "Don't even put that thought into my head! I-I'm sure they're all right!" he cried.

_"I hope Romano didn't drive tipsy –"_

"OH, GOTT! STOP IT!" Germany pleaded as he felt an overpowering feeling of dread take over his body.

_"Maybe they've been put into a Witness Protection Program after all the chaos we caused at the party tonight!"_

"Why would that happen?! We didn't _kill _anybody!"

_"Who knows? Maybe the old man had a heart attack!"_

"I'm sure that he didn't. Stop it, Antonio! You're making me really nervous!" Germany paced back and fourth near the front door of the house and he timidly wiped away perspiration that had accumulated onto his forehead. "Maybe they were held up for a while for questioning. I'm sure that the police were called to that family's home. But then again…" Germany's sentence abruptly stopped when he noticed a vehicle's bright headlights pull up onto the front driveway. "Hold on!" he muttered and he walked up to the front window and he carefully pulled away the forest green colored curtain in order to peek through. Right on his driveway parked Romano's red Ferrari 458 Italia and to Germany's relief, Italy came out of the driver's side of the vehicle. "They're here! And Italia drove!" he told Spain through the receiver.

"Oh, thank God!" Spain happily exclaimed as he shut the front door to his home and he started his way to the spiral staircase. "Hey! How bad does Romano look? I mean, how intoxicated do you think he is?" he asked as he walked up the steps.

"I don't know. He hasn't come out of the passenger side yet," he answered as he spied on Italy walking over to the other side of the car. He watched Italy open the passenger door and struggle to bring Romano out of the vehicle. While this was happening, Spain asked him a question. _"When you see him, tell me how he is…is he just tipsy? Or if he's drunk, how drunk is he? From a scale of 1 – 10 –"_

"Oh, mein Gott!" Germany cried in disgust as he watched Italy physically pull his older brother out of the vehicle. Italy had wrapped Romano's arm over his shoulder and he tried to support him in a standing position. Romano's legs clumsily dragged as both men slowly started to walk up toward the front steps of the house. Romano had a goofy grin stretched across his blushing face and he hysterically laughed out loud.

_"From a scale of 1 – 10, how bad is mi tomate?"_

"Spain…he's _really bad._"

_"How bad is he?!"_

"He's absolutely _wasted..._"

_"OH, NO! MY POOR TOMATE!" _Spain suddenly cried as he walked into his master bedroom. He sat down on the edge of the bed and he nervously ran his gloved hand through his wavy, tangled locks. _"Can you do me a __big favor__, Ludwig?"_ he asked.

"Oh, Gott! Nein!" Germany hissed as he face-palmed himself. He knew exactly what the nation was going to ask of him.

_"Ludwig, por favor….por favor, can you let Romano spend the night at your house?"_

Germany released a heavy sigh over the receiver. "Like I have any other choice!" he cried with apprehension.

"Oh, Gracias! Gracias! You have no idea how relieved I feel right now!"Spain blissfully said as he laid himself onto the bed. "You don't have to worry about a thing! Romano's a very heavy sleeper when he's boozed up! He won't be a burden to you!"

"You better be right about that!" Germany insisted. As he brought his hand away from his face, he focused his attention to the view through the window and he witnessed the Italy Brothers physically struggling with one another over the car keys. "Uh-oh," he uttered.

_"What? What's going on?!"_

"Romano is trying to take back his car keys."

_"¡Aye Ya Ya!"_

"Hold on, okay? I'll be right back."

"Okay!"

Germany placed his cellphone onto a nearby table and he walked to the front door. As he opened the door, his ears were beginning to ring from the loud verbal dispute that the Italy Brothers were having with one another in their native language. Germany witnessed both Italy and Romano gripping onto the car keys and playing a rough tug-a-war with them.

"Oh, c'mon! *hic!* Give me the fucking keys!"

"No!"

"Give them to me, Veneziano!"

"No! Mmmph! L-Let go!"

"CHIGGGGIIIII! *hic!* _I drrroooovvvvvveeeee_…I drove you home in one piece, didn't I? *hic!*"

"You didn't drive at all! I drove!"

"Oooooh yeah...well, it's the *hic!* thought that counts!"

Germany released a discontented sigh and he walked up to the bickering brothers. As he stood in front of them, he cleared his throat as a way of announcing his presence to them. Romano's closed eyes stared at the Germanic nation and he immediately began to grumble by the sight of him. He then cocked his head upward and stared at the property. He had expected to observe a Spanish villa standing before him. Instead, he was looking at a traditional timber-framed Bavarian mansion. Romano's brown eyes opened up and widened as he began to panic. He then glared at his younger brother and he pointed his right index finger to him. As he did this, he mindlessly released his tight grip to his car keys and he lost his balance and fell down onto the pavement in a sitting position.

"_CHHHHIIIIGGGGGIII! THIS ISN'T MY HOUSE!"_ he shrieked.

To Italy's relief, he took possession of his brother's car keys and he quickly tucked them away into his pantsuit pocket. He then turned his attention to his irritated partner and he rushed up to him. "GERMANY!" he squealed as he extended his arms outward. When he finally stood in front of the nation, he lovingly embraced him. He then stood on his tiptoes and he repeatedly kissed Germany's thin lips and face. Germany's cheeks blushed with embarrassment from the multiple kisses he was receiving. As it seemed that Italy was never going to stop pecking his face, he brought his hands up and he tenderly cupped the nation's face. As he did this, Germany leaned forward and he gave him a slow, amorous kiss onto his lips. When their lips finally departed, Italy softly uttered a gratified Veeee~ and both men smiled at each other.

"Welcome home," Germany said as he released his hold of Italy's face.

"Grazie! I-I'm sorry that we came back so late. We were delayed!"

"That's all right, liebchen…I'm just glad that you came back home safely…especially under these _circumstances_," Germany slightly leaned to his right to get a good glimpse of Romano's drunkenness and he frowned. "What's up with him?" he asked as he fixed his gaze to his beloved again, "He's so intoxicated! Why, I would assume that _you two were at a party tonight_, or something. Eh-heh," Germany then expressed a nervous chuckle after he had just hinted what he already knew about their whereabouts tonight. He had expected Italy of answering to him by saying that they were indeed at a party. But instead, he did not.

"Ludwig…can I ask you a for a favor?" Italy worriedly asked. Germany sighed, as he already knew what was going to be asked of him yet again. "Of course you can," he said.

"Could my brother please spend the night in our home? I…I know that you two don't get along and I know that I've probably goofed up by driving him back to our estate. B-But I wasn't up to driving all the way over to Spain and I didn't want to spend the night over there, either. I'd miss you too much…I guess I'm being selfish, aren't I?"

Italy's shamefully looked away from Germany's face and he looked down to the ground. Germany smirked at him as he reached to gently grasp Italy's chin and he slowly pushed up the nation's head upward so he could look at him. "Nein, you're not being selfish. You made the right decision coming home. I don't like the idea of having you travel so late like this. As for your brother…*sigh*…of course he can spend the night. It isn't a problem…unless he makes it become one."

Italy's sighed with relief and he grinned at the nation. "Oh, grazie! He won't be any trouble to you! I swear it! He's a heavy sleeper when he drinks!"

"Heh…that's what Spain said, too…Oh, Gott!" Germany briefly face-palmed himself as he suddenly remembered him. "I have him on hold on my cellphone! He called me out of concern over Romano's whereabouts. I'll be right back!" He then rushed back to the house. As he opened the front door, he was greeted by the household pets who had gathered together at the entranceway. Germany acknowledged their presence by talking to them. "We're having company tonight, boys – Onkel Romano is spending the night." (Onkel = Uncle in German) Immediately, all three dogs and the two cats became very excited and their tails happily wagged. They adored their Uncle Romano so much! It was rare for him to visit their home because they were aware that both he and Germany disliked each other. Now to have him visit their home and to also have him sleepover was a wonderful surprise to them.

Meanwhile, Italy was trying his best to pull up his older brother off the ground. He held onto both of Romano's hands and he weakly struggled to get him to stand. "C-C'mon! S-Stand up! Ugggh!" As he made one final attempt at pulling him up with whatever hidden strength he had inside him, Romano was finally lifted upward and standing up on his two feet. Italy quickly rushed to his brother's side as he could see that he was swaying in place and he wrapped Romano's arm over his shoulder as a way to support him up. The brothers then made a cautious journey to the front steps to the Bavarian mansion. As Italy was beginning to guide Romano up the three steps and toward the closed front door, Romano decided that he had ventured enough and he sat himself down onto the steps.

Italy smiled at his brother as he sat himself closely next to him. He wrapped his right arm over Romano's shoulder and he gently embraced him. "Are you feeling okay?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm, I'm *hic!* I'm fine!" Romano slurred and he started to express a deep, soft giggle. Italy squeezed Romano's left hand and his embrace tightened. "Good!" he answered. At that moment, the front door opened and Germany stepped outside with his iPhone in hand. He closed the door behind him and he walked down the steps to face both men. Romano's pleasant face suddenly hardened by the sight of Germany standing before him and he jeered at him. "Get lost, you bastard! Go on, now! *hic!* Shoo! Shoo!" he hissed as he motioned with his right arm in a pushing away gesture.

Germany sternly glanced to Romano, unfazed by what had been said to him. He held up his iPhone and he spoke to him in a serious tone. "Spain is on the line. He wants to talk to you."

Suddenly, Romano broke his embrace with his brother and he excitedly stretched his arms outward toward Germany. "Gimme, gimme, gimme!" he childishly gasped. Germany held out his cellphone to him and Romano immediately jerked it out of his hand. "Ciao, Antonio! Mi ammmoooorrrr! (My love!) *hic!*" he passionately cried through the receiver. Italy's grin increased by his brother's sudden romantic dialogue and his pale cheeks flushed. Germany rolled his eyes with annoyance and he turned his gaze from Romano. _'Oh, he __is__ drunk!' _he thought to himself. Anyone who associated with Romano knew that he _never_ publically expressed affection. To witness him expressing his love for Spain over the phone came off as being incredibly awkward.

_"¡Hola, mi chico tomate! Did you have a good time today with your brother?"_

"Si…I did…b-but *hic!*…he drove me back to the wrong house! I'm in Berlin! W-Why am I here?! I...I don't live here! *hic!*" Romano whined with a hint of confusion to his tone.

_"Oh, eh-heh, that's too bad! But I'm sure that he has good intentions by doing that. Don't be angry with him! Eh-heh!"_ Spain amusingly answered. He tried his best to hold back his chuckling, but a couple of them slipped out and this caused Romano's patience to be tested. "W-Why are you laughing at me?! It's not funny, you bastard!" he cried.

_"Forgive me! I'm sorry," _Spain quickly replied as he struggled to stop himself from laughing anymore. Romano continued to irrationally quarrel with him. "I-I'm not staying here much longer *hic!* I…I'll be driving home to you soon."

"Of course you are, cariño! (sweetie)" Spain playfully responded. He knew that was never going to happen. He could hear Romano's hiccups over the receiver and he decided to comment about it in order to change the subject. "_Hey, you still have your – erm, I mean, you have the hiccups! Have you been drinking tonight?"_

"Si, I've been drinking…red wine…it's delizioso…(delicious)."

Spain's chuckling finally subsided as he remembered a serious issue that needed to be addressed. _"How are you feeling?" _he asked in a concerned, delicate tone.

"I'm fine."

_"Are you sure? You sound as if you've had too much to drink…"_

"Of course I'm fucking sure! *hic!* Don't lecture me! I-I know my limit! *hic!*" Romano snapped.

_"Be sure to drink lots of water tonight and get plenty of sleep, too! I don't want you to wake up with a hangover, cariño."_

"I_ know_ that! *hic!* I can fucking take care of myself, you know! Why must you always worry about me? You need to stop it!" Romano stubbornly insisted.

_ "I'm afraid that I can never do that. You're asking too much from me. I'll always worry about you, Lovino…I cherish you so much, mi amor…"_

Romano's already blushing pink cheeks intensified in color after listening to Spain's dialogue. His hard demeanor softened and a shy smile formed on his face. He had completely forgotten that both Germany and Italy were present around him and he became lost in his own little world inhabited by himself and his beloved. _"And I you…sei la mia vita, tesoro_ (You are my life, sweetheart)," he breathlessly answered as his dark eyes sparkled with affection. His erogenous zone curl then transformed its shape into a heart.

Spain closed his emerald eyes and he released a contented sigh after listening to Romano's sweet nothings. He was still sprawled onto the bed and dressed in his dirty black clothes. He reached with his free hand to grab one of Romano's pillows and he plopped it onto his chest. He tightly hugged it as he thought of him and he pressed his face onto its surface. He inhaled his lover's alluring scent coming off from the pillow; smelling the aroma of sweat and tomatoes enthralled Spain's senses and it made him long for Romano's presence next to him in their king sized bed. "Te quiero mucho (I love you so much)" he seductively remarked.

Romano's heart fluttered inside his chest by Spain's declaration. He pressed his right hand over his chest, fearing that somehow his thumping heart would leap through his immortal flesh. He must have been told a million times on how much he was endeared by his partner. And yet, every time when he was reminded, it would leave him utterly astounded. "Ti amo, anche (I love you, too)" he faithfully answered, and he suddenly began to press his lips onto the receiving end of the cellphone to emphasize the extent of his devotion to Spain.

"Ti amo! *kiss* Ti amo! *kiss* Ti amo! *kiss* Ti amo! *kiss*"

"Veeeeeeeeeeeeeeee~!" Italy swooned as he witnessed his older brother's unorthodox behavior. Germany also witnessed what was unraveling before him, but he was not caught up in the romantic atmosphere at all. Instead, he gawked in disgust as Romano violated his iPhone with his moist lips. "UGGGH!" he cried. Italy turned his gaze to his partner and he suddenly stood up and walked up to be by his side. He wrapped his arms around the nation's broad, muscular chest and he nuzzled his face onto it. Germany acknowledged Italy's presence by wrapping his strong arms around him, but his face continued to express horror as his eyes locked onto his now saliva-coated cellphone.

Spain opened his eyes to the sound of muffled kissing coming forth from his cellphone. He hugged the pillow tighter and his smile increased. Every kiss and every utterance of love spoken to him gave the nation goose pimples underneath his clothing. He cherished Romano so much and he was so proud to have him in his life. Despite the uncaring, cynical opinions that his numerous former bosses and members of Court held for Romano, Spain had always unapologetically stood by his side. He could always see more to Romano behind his protective barrier that he put up around himself – underneath that stubborn, calloused, brutally opinionated sailor-mouthed nation was a funny, sensitive man with genuine kindness and loyalty. Romano's love for him was so beautiful, so pure and unblemished that it sometimes frightened Spain to death. How is it that such a relationship could even exist? They had to be soul mates. That was what they had both agreed upon. They could just feel it. Romano was indeed his soul mate. His lover. His best friend.

"Lovino…Lovino, honey, I better let you go now," Spain tenderly said.

_"No! No, not yet! *hic!*"_ Romano pleaded on the other line.

"It's very late, cariño…"

_"I…I better leave now then and begin my commute back home…"_

"Uh, yeah…right…eh-heh," Spain quietly chuckled by Romano's determination to travel back to him. "Aren't you tired?"

_"N-No…not really *hic!*"_ Romano hesitantly answered as he tried to hold back a yawn that suddenly decided it wanted to escape from within.

"I think it would be wise if you spent the night with Italy –"

_"T-there you go fucking telling me w-what to do again! I-I'm driving home to you right now!"_

"If you insist…but if you decide to change your mind, I'll understand completely," Spain amusingly answered.

_"I-I won't! *hic!* I…I can't sleep well by myself. I…I need to be held in your embrace…you know that…" _Romano sheepishly admitted.

Spain sighed as he shifted himself onto a stomach position. He hugged his partner's pillow as he rested his head against it. "I'm aware of this, Lovi…I love doing that for you…_and then some…"_ he said in a heartfelt alluring tone. Suddenly, both nations quietly started to chuckle softly to themselves. Romano's cheeks burned as his ancient blood rushed to his head as his blushing intensified even further. _"That's just another reason why I need to travel back home, diletto (beloved)," _he seductively said in his deep, silky voice.

Spain's cheeks flushed crimson after listening to Romano's bold statement. Now he wished that it were possible for his partner to drive home. He held his cellphone away from his face and he looked at the time. It was now 2:15 AM. Reluctantly, he decided that it was now time to end their conversation. "I'm going to bed now, Roma...you should be doing the same," he softly uttered.

_"I-I'll do that…when I get there."_

"Muy bein, mi chico tomate…buenas noches, querido (darling)."

_ "Buonanotte, tesoro…buona *hic!* notte…"_

"Te amo…"

_ "Te amo, anche…"_

Silence.

Romano groggily stood himself up and he slowly walked up to both Germany and Italy. He stood in front of them and his body slightly started to sway as he extended his arm out and held out Germany's slobbered iPhone. "Grazie," he muttered. Germany took his phone away from Romano with one free arm while his other arm still embraced Italy close to himself. Both himself and his partner stared at the moist iPhone and Italy began to giggle profusely. However, Germany was not amused. He was about to say something insulting to Romano. But then, suddenly, Romano brought his right hand up to his forehead and he drunkenly saluted to both nations. "Well, see ya! *hic!*" he slurred and he turned his direction to his vehicle and he started to stagger up to it.

"Wait, fratello! Where are you going?" Italy cried out to him and he broke his embrace from Germany. Romano stopped walking and he turned around to face his brother. "I-I'm going home!" he stated, and he reached into his pantsuit pockets in search of his car keys. When they were obviously not with him, he became agitated and he stomped his foot once onto the concrete surface of the driveway. "Where the *hic!*…wh-where the hell did I put my car keys?!" he cried.

"Romano, you can't drive tonight! You're drunk!" Italy cried out to him again, "Please come back over here!"

"Ja! You're not going anywhere tonight!" Germany sternly commented. Romano glared at Germany and he drunkenly pointed to him. "Wh-What do you mean I'm not *hic!* going anywhere?!"

Germany rolled his eyes and he answered the nation's question. "You're staying here. You're spending the night with us."

Suddenly, Romano lost his balance and he fell over to his side. His brown eyes widened with disgust as he misunderstood what Germany had said to him. "I-I'm sleeping with you two…I-IN THE SAME BED?! CHHHHHHHHIIIIIIIGGGGGGIIIIII !"

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT! VERDAMNT!" Germany shouted. Romano continued his rant as he pointed to each nation with contempt. "I-I ALWAYS KNEW THAT YOU WERE A PERVERT, POTATO-EATING *hic!* BASTARD! BUT YOU! VENEZIANO! MY OWN FLESH AND BLOOD! SHAME ON YOU! *hic!* WHAT A TERRIBLE INFLUENCE HE'S BEEN TO YOU! YOU…YOU'RE GOING TO CONFESSION WITH ME NEXT WEEK!"

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE DELUSIONAL!"

"YOU SHUT UP, YOU FUCKING JACKASS! *hic!*"

"Keep your voices down, both of you!" Italy panicked as he motioned with his hands, "You're going to wake up the neighbors!" Both Germany and Romano sneered to each other. Romano tried to stand himself up, but he was unable to do so. He sat on the cold concrete ground defeated, confused and angry. "I-I WANT TO GO BACK TO MADRID!" he demanded.

Germany snapped back to the nation. "You'll be going back to Madrid in the morning! You just have to be patient! Now get up! You're staying in our home tonight!"

"NO!" Romano pouted.

"It's way too late for this. C'mon, Romano…" Germany then walked up Romano and he firmly gripped onto his arm. Romano immediately jerked his arm away from the nation's hold and he glared at him. "D-DON'T TOUCH ME!" he shouted.

"Romano…please calm down…" Germany said as best as he could in a cool, pleasant tone, "I welcome you to our home. Please come inside with us now –"

"ABSOLUTELY *hic!* NOT!" Romano yelled as he stubbornly folded his arms in front of himself. Germany turned around and gestured his arms upward toward Italy. He walked back to his side, frustrated over the situation. "What are we going to do?! We can't just let him stay out here!" he cried. Italy had nothing to suggest. He was stumped by this complicated situation. But suddenly, Germany had an idea flash inside his mind. "Feli…come here," he uttered and his partner slowly leaned toward the nation. Germany whispered his scheme into Italy's ear and a grin appeared on the Italian's sweet face. When Germany was finished telling him what to do, Italy looked to him and nodded. He then walked up to his elder brother and he got down on his knees to be at the same eye level with him. He tenderly held onto Romano's hand and he patted it as he spoke to him in a warmhearted tone. "Dai, Romano! Andiamo in casa! E 'ora di andare a letto!"(C'mon, Romano! Let's go inside the house! It's time to go to bed!)

Romano's closed eyes looked to Italy and he released a hiccup. "Oooh…okay," he calmly answered and with the help his brother, he got up on his feet again. Germany slapped his hand onto his face, giving himself an epic face palm. "I can't believe that actually worked!" he grumbled to himself as he walked up the steps and stood by the closed front door. He watched the Italy brothers staggering to his direction. After they had made it up the three steps, Italy guided him to the front door. But suddenly, Romano stopped in his tracks. He gestured his brother to wait for a moment and he then focused his attention to Germany. He pointed his index finger to him and he slammed it onto Germany's chiseled chest as he spoke. "Lets get some things straight here. *hic!* _I don't like you._ You better not get me confused with my brother tonight! *hic!* If you try to do anything to me…ANNNNYYYY-THHHHIIINNNGG…I'M GONNA BEAT YOU UNTIL YOU'RE DEAD! CAPISCE?! (Understand?!)" he demanded as he gestured his hands.

"Yeah...right, _Kapeesh_…whatever," Germany flatly answered, unfazed by the threat that was shouted to him. Romano smirked to the nation and he swayed as he gestured his index finger to him again. "That's right! You…you better watch out! I got my eye on you! *hic!* Nobody, and I mean NO-BOD-Y _fucks _with Lovino Vargas!" After he made his tenacious threat to his nemesis, he proudly turned his glance away to Germany and he began to walk. Unfortunately, he was not paying attention and he accidentally collided against the closed front door, crashing his face against its wooden surface.

"PFFFFFFFT! AHAHAHAHA!" Romano started screaming with bellowing laughter after the impact. His body swayed forward and backward and he was about to fall down again. But thankfully, Italy was there to catch him and hold him upward. Italy opened the front door and he guided him inside. There standing before them were all the pets of the household; they had been patiently waiting for Romano to greet them. Romano's eyes widened with excitement and he fell to his knees and crawled onto the wooden floor. He then as stopped and sat up on his knees with his arms wide open. "HEY, RAGAZZI! (HEY, BOYS!)" he happily shouted and all three dogs began to bark vigorously. "ZIO ROMANO! ZIO ROMANO!" they cried out loud in their language and they glomped over him and they enthusiastically licked his blushing face. Romano was now flat on his back with his knees up, laughing and squirming from being tickled by the dogs' kisses. The two cats loudly purred and they rubbed their furry bodies against Romano's feet.

While this was happening, Italy faced his beloved and he quickly held onto his hand. He brought his hand up to his lips and he gently kissed it. "Grazie," he lovingly said. Germany smirked to him and he squeezed Italy's petite fingers. Italy then released the nation's hand and he was about to walk inside the house. But then, he remembered something that needed to be done. "Hey, can you get our things out of the car while I settle Romano in the guest room?" he asked as he pulled out his brother's car keys from his pantsuit pocket.

"Uh, ja…sure, no problem," Germany mumbled as he was given Romano's car keys.

"Grazie…Oh! Also, when you come back inside, could you bring up a large glass of water for him?"

Germany sighed. "Fine. You want me to fluff his pillows, too?" he sarcastically asked.

Italy gasped and he excitedly grinned up to him. "Oh, that would be great! Grazie!" he happily answered. Germany cringed. He should have kept his mouth shut. He turned his attention to Romano's vehicle and he walked toward it. At this moment, Italy went inside the house to assist his older brother.

While Germany was walking up to the Ferrari, he bitterly grumbled to himself. _"Gather up his shit out of the car! Bring him a glass of water! Fluff his pillows!_ He would never do these things for me if I was in need, that selfish bastard!" He pressed a button on the little Ferrari remote control and the vehicle's headlights briefly flashed and its doors unlocked. He opened the driver's side and he leaned inside to grab both Italy Brothers' suit jackets and ties. After he had gathered everything, he noticed a half-empty bottle of red wine propped up in-between the front seats. "You've got to be kidding me!" he hissed. He then got out of the car and slammed the door shut. He decided to check the trunk in case there was anything inside that he needed to retrieve. When he lifted the trunk hood and looked inside, his eyes widened and his stomach suddenly tightened up. Sitting inside the trunk were two individual wooden crates carrying a dozen bottles of red wine. Germany read the business name stamped onto the wood – ZOCCOLITTO WINERY.

"Oh, Gott!" he said, his deep voice filled with dread. That was the last thing he wanted to think about tonight. He clenched his eyes shut and he quickly slammed the trunk hood closed.

* * *

"Veee~! Okay, boys! That's enough! Lets go upstairs!" Italy gleefully said to the household pets. Immediately, all three dogs and the two cats parted from Romano and they excitedly ran up the flight of stairs. Romano remained lying on his backside onto the wooden floor. He continued to giggle to himself as he wiped away any traces of drool off his blushing face. Italy anteriorly crouched to him and he reached underneath his brother's arms with his hands and he struggled to push him up in a sitting position. When he was finally able to achieve this, Italy then struggled to get his brother to stand up. "C'mon, Romano! S-S-Stand up, please! Mmmph!" Italy cried.

Finally, Romano participated and he sluggishly moved his feet in position. Italy made a final attempt to lift his brother and thankfully, he finally had Romano standing up. Italy immediately wrapped his brother's right arm over his shoulder and he wrapped his own left arm around Romano's waistline. Both of them looked ahead to the daunting staircase. Italy heavily sighed as he faced his next challenge – assisting Romano to walk up the stairs.

"Okay, fratello…we're going up the stairs now. Please hold on to the railing," Italy calmly said. Romano nodded and he slapped his left hand onto the staircase railing. Then, slowly and cautiously, the Italy Brothers began their journey up the staircase. Everything seemed to be going smoothly for a brief moment. But suddenly, Romano released his grip onto the railing and began rubbing his eyes. His balance became unsteady and he staggered from left to right and forward to backward. Italy tried his best to prevent his brother from falling over the railing or to fall backwards. "NO, NO, NO! S-STOP IT! R-ROMANO, PLEASE – GAAAAAAH!" Italy pathetically cried as Romano suddenly collapsed onto him and Italy was now forcefully pinned against the wall.

Both Italy brothers stood on the middle steps of the long staircase. They silently looked into each other's auburn eyes and Italy's body started to tremble with nervousness. He could smell the strong odor of wine coming forth from Romano's breath. Romano awkwardly looked behind his left shoulder and he observed the stairs beneath him. He then groggily looked back to his brother and he spoke. "T-This entire staircase is really *hic!* _wobbly_…y-you gotta get that potato-eating bastard of yours to fix it!" he slurred.

Italy blankly stared at his brother. His Saint-like patience was being tested yet again tonight. He was physically drained after being awake for almost twenty-four hours. He was exhausted. He was fed up. He was _angry._ Although he was never the type of person to ever express neither anger nor criticism out loud, this did not stop him from passing judgment in secret. As he tiredly looked at Romano, he mentally criticized about him in his head.

_" 'Don't worry,' he said. 'I'll just have one glass!' he said. 'I know my limitations!' he said."_

Italy closed his eyes and he sighed. A small smile curled on his face and he compassionately looked at Romano. "I-I'll be sure to tell him in the morning," he replied. He then carefully held his brother in his arms while he tried to position him away from himself so he was not pinned to the wall anymore. While he was doing this, Romano spoke to him. "G-Good! *hic!* M-my baby brother s-shouldn't have to live with a wobbly staircase!" he confidently said. Finally, both brothers were ready to walk up the rest of the stars. Italy reached for his brother's left hand and he positioned it onto the railing. "Hold on to this and don't let go!" he softly ordered as he released his grip onto his hand. Then, they commenced their journey up the staircase.

When they finally got to the top, Italy guided Romano down the hallway. The animals gathered together in the hallway and they watched their Papá and Zio walk past them. Both men walked up to one of the various closed rooms and Italy opened the door. They stepped inside the darkened room and Italy felt for a light switch on the wall with his hand. When he was able to find it, he flicked it up and the lights of the bedroom turned on. The interior of the room was simple and cozy and the walls were made entirely of light shaded Bavarian wood. The large window at the right side of the room was draped with heavy blue curtains. In the center of the bedroom sat a King sized bed which was layered with a blue comforter and oversized pillows. Above the bed were two medium sized lamps that were mounted on the wall and above the lamps also hung a gigantic taxidermy elk head with an impressive crown of antlers. Across from the bed was a stone-cobbled fireplace with a pile of wood stacked inside it. The minimum interior decorating that hung on the walls were antiqued relics of a bygone era – a hint of Germany's mysterious past.

"Here we go, fratello," Italy said as he brought Romano to the bed and he sat him down onto it. Immediately, Romano plopped himself on his backside onto the bed and he moaned with pleasure by how comfortable it was. "Ooooh! This is so soft! *hic!* I-I'm on a cloud!" he cried. Italy smiled at his brother as he watched him relaxing on the bed. "Do you like the room?" he asked as he turned around and closed the bedroom door. Romano looked around the room while he was lying in bed and he nodded. "It's fine…it's really…'woody'," he said.

Italy walked up to a lamp standing near the window and he turned it on. "I know. It's Bavarian," he said as he walked back to Romano's side. He got down onto his knees and he began to untie Romano's left leather shoe as he spoke. "What a long day we've had, huh?" he asked as he carefully slipped off the untied shoe and placed it to the side.

"Yeah…*hic!* But it was a lot of fun, though! T-That Pepino kid could really sing! But why didn't he sing the Mouse song? I-I wanted him to sing it!" Romano said as he looked above himself and took notice of the giant elk head. As Italy untied his brother's right shoe and was about to slip it off, Romano jerked his leg upward and the loose leather shoe flew up in the air and it landed onto the elk's antlers. "YES!" Romano shouted victoriously.

Italy started laughing by what Romano had done as he rolled off his brother's black socks. Once he had them off, he answered his question. "Maybe Pepino didn't know the song. It's an Italian-American children's song after all."

"Of course he knows it! He's named after the fucking _mouse!_" Romano insisted.

Italy laughed even harder as he got up from his knees. Once he stood, he leaned over Romano and he reach down to begin unbuttoning his red shirt. "I don't think that he is," he kindly replied.

"He is so! I know it!" Romano whined. He watched his brother slowly and carefully unbuttoning his shirt. "I love that song…*hic!* I love it a lot!" He then suddenly grabbed Italy's hands and he rhythmically shook them as he began to drunkenly sing a verse from the song. "Pepino, oh you little mouse! Oh, won't you go away? / Find yourself another house to run around and play! / You scare my girl! You eat my cheese! You even drink my wine! / I try so hard to catch you, but you trick me all the time! PFFFT! Hehehe!"

"You're so silly, Roma!" Italy lovingly said as he gently pulled his left hand away from his brother's grip and he caressed his dark tresses. After Romano released his grip on Italy's right hand, Italy went back to unbuttoning the final button on his brother's shirt. He then pulled off one arm sleeve, than the other and he carefully took off Romano's shirt. Then, Italy started to slip off his brother's undershirt. Romano shifted about as his brother assisted him. Once Italy was successful at taking it off, Romano lay still again on the bed. His lean, hairless chest had tiny beads of perspiration sprinkled about and his dark nipples hardened due to the cool breeze coming from the air conditioning vent.

Italy reached behind Romano's neck and he started unlatching the two golden chains that he wore on himself. As he took off the two necklaces, he devotedly kissed the golden crucifix. He placed them onto the bed and he focused his attention to Romano's devotional scapula. "You still wear this? It's so old fashioned!" he commented with disbelief.

"Yeah, I do…just in case," Romano trailed off. Italy sympathetically looked at him after he said that. "You have nothing to fear, fratello. You're a good person! You're not going to Hell," he softly uttered.

"Well…if you say so," Romano stubbornly answered. Italy sighed and he leaned closely to kiss the swatch with an image of the Virgin Mary stitched to it. "May I take it off just for tonight?" he asked.

"Mmm-hmm…fine, I guess," Romano said. Italy carefully took off the scapular and he placed it with the two necklaces on the bed. He then looked at Romano's left hand and he noticed that he wore an old gold ring with an emblem of Spain's Coat of Arms stamped onto it. He wore it on his ring finger. As Italy reached over and was starting to slip the ring off, Romano quickly put his right hand over Italy's and prevented him from doing so. "No! Please don't…I _never_ take this ring off," he said.

Italy nodded and he let go of Romano's hand. He then proceeded to unbuckle Romano's leather belt and once he did so, he slipped it off of his pants. As he was doing this, he continued their conversation. "The party was wonderful tonight! Everyone was so nice and the food was delicious!"

"Yeah…*hic!* Everything was awesome until those _two assholes_ crashed the party! W-Who the hell were they? And why were they..._watching us?" _

"I…I don't know," Italy hesitantly answered as he unbuttoned and unzipped Romano's suit pants. "That was a little strange –"

"It was fucking creepy! They ruined the party!" Romano cried.

"The police found some evidence in the vineyard. Those guys left behind broken binoculars and a wool hat filled with grapes."

"Did the binoculars *hic!* have any identification?"

"N-No…they d-didn't…Mmmphh!" Italy answered as he struggled to pull off Romano's pants. As he tried pulling them off, Romano randomly lifted up his pelvis and his pants easily slipped off of him. Once Italy had the dress pants in his hands, he blushed and giggled at Romano's tomato polka-dotted boxers. "Veeeee~! Cuteness!" he excitedly cried. Romano blushed profusely and he bashfully looked away from his brother's gaze. "S-Spain gave them to me," he softly uttered.

"I love it! It looks great on you!" Italy answered. Romano slowly looked back to Italy and he smirked. "Yeah…I like it, too," he said. He then focused his attention to their conversation again and he asked a question. "You know, it's too bad that those bastards got away from the Zoccolitto's clutches. How did they do it?"

"You won't believe how they did it!" Italy said as he gathered up Romano's clothes and jewelry and he walked over to a nearby table. As he was folding the clothes, he shared what details he knew about the escape. "I overheard Mr. Zoccolitto telling the police that those guys _drove off a cliff!_ They fell over fifty feet off the ground – _and lived!"_

"BULLSHIT!" Romano shouted as he suddenly leaned himself up in a sitting position. "T-THAT'S IMPOSSIBLE!"

"It's what happened! I swear to you, it's true!"

"T-THEY MUST HAVE BEEN *hic!* SERIOUSLY INJURED AT LEAST!"

"I don't know for sure, but what I do know is that they are still alive and they got away."

Romano's brown eyes widened and he gawked at his brother after listening to this unbelievable revelation. "T-That's the _most STUPIDEST THING_ I've ever heard in my entire life! T-That don't make no sense!" he cried.

"I know! I know!"

"It's so fucking absurd! *hic!* It's just as absurd as Indy surviving the nuclear bomb drill inside the refrigerator! I-I…It didn't make any sense! _It…It made no sense at all!"_ Romano suddenly fell back onto the bed and he drunkenly began to sniffle and choke with emotion. He pathetically wept as he recalled the lame scene from Indiana Jones and the Crystal Skull.

Italy quickly abandoned the folded clothes on the table and he rushed to his brother's side. "Oh, honey! Don't cry! Please don't cry!" he insisted as he wiped away Romano's tears. "I know…it still haunts me, too…b-but we have to move on!" Italy said as he struggled to hold back his own tears. At this moment, Germany opened the bedroom door and he walked inside holding a large glass of water. When he noticed Romano's emotional state, Germany panicked. "What's wrong?! Why's he crying?!" he asked.

Italy turned his gaze to Germany and he answered him, "W-We're talking about the fridge scene in 'The Crystal Skull'."

"It...It made no sense! *hic!* Mio Dio, it don't make n-no fucking sense!" Romano blubbered.

Germany sternly looked to the brothers as he handed the glass of water to Italy. "That movie is _never_ to be discussed in this household," he ordered. Italy took the glass and he gestured it to Romano to drink from it. Romano obliged and he took the cup from his brother and he chugged down the water. Germany then looked to Romano as he was drinking. "Guten Nacht," he said. He then briefly focused his attention to Italy and he kissed him on the cheek. He turned around and he started walking out of the room. As he did this, he overheard Romano's question to Italy after he was finished drinking.

"So…those fucking bastards *hic!* drove off a cliff and lived! What kind of car were they driving?"

Germany hurriedly rushed out of the guest room and he closed the door. He hid himself behind the wall to the guest room. His blue eyes widened with paranoia and his heart palpitated with dread. 'Oh, Scheiße!' he thought to himself. He slowly sat down and he hugged his knees to his chest. While he was there, the household pets sitting outside the guest room stared at him. Berlitz the Doberman arched his non-existent eyebrow to his 'father.' 'They're talking about you, aren't they?' the dog thought. Germany carefully leaned over and he turned the doorknob to the guest room. He cautiously opened it and left it cracked so he could listen intently to the Italy Brothers' conversation.  
"I…I don't know," Italy said, "but I remember hearing that it was a very unusual car…like it was vintage or something."

"The Zoccolittos are pressing charges against them, aren't they?!"

"Yes, they are. The Bianchi family is pressing charges, too. They had their crops destroyed by those men when they drove through it. They're furious with them! They have at least €85,000 in lost revenue and damages!" (€85,000 = 85,000 Euros – roughly $110,945.34 US)

"I…I hope that they're soon caught and they're severely punished! They should get the death penalty!" Romano angrily cried.

"We don't have capital punishment, fratello, and thank God, too! I wouldn't want that to happen! Plus, they haven't done anything that would require them to have such a harsh sentence!"

"Oh please! They trespassed on private property, committed espionage and destroyed somebody's livelihood! Did they eat any grapes?"

"Yes, they did –"

"Thieves! Fucking *hic!* criminals! Oh, you might as well throw in reckless driving to those charges, too!"

"Romano, they didn't do anything that bad, really. They just watched us having fun, ate a couple of grapes and they accidentally drove through a vineyard. Nobody got hurt or killed –"

"You're too *hic!* fucking nice and forgiving!" Romano rudely interrupted.

"And you're overreacting," Italy calmly replied. Romano rolled his eyes to his brother and he held up his empty glass for him to take. Italy grabbed the glass and he walked over to the table to set it down. "Lets not discuss it anymore. The police are pursuing those men now throughout the Tuscany region. We can just hope that they'll be caught and brought to justice."

Germany's stomach tightened from anxiety as he secretly overheard Italy and Romano's conversations. 'Oh, Gott! Spain and I are_ outlaws!_' he thought to himself. He was _terrified. _He felt _disgusting._ A good German like himself, let alone being a nation who has always traditionally obeyed and supported the authorities was now a wanted man in a neighboring country for multiple charges. This made him feel like a scumbag. He has brought disgrace upon himself and his proud people. _'W-what am I going to do?!'_

Meanwhile, Italy walked up to the lamp standing by the window and he turned it off. He looked back to his brother's side and he smiled to him. "It's time to fall asleep!" he merrily said.

Romano pouted at him as his eyebrows formed a deep frown. "I'm not tired! *hic!*" he stubbornly answered.

"Yes, you are…"

"N-No, I'm not!"

"What's wrong, Romano?" Italy asked as he crawled onto the bed. He weakly pulled Romano toward himself as he tried to get positioned. Italy rested vertically across with his backside propped up by the thick pillows behind him. With Romano now by side, Italy lifted his head and he carefully rested it onto his lap. Romano looked up to his younger brother and a yawn suddenly escaped from his throat. Italy could see how visibly tired he was as he lovingly stroked Romano's dark hair.

"I… I don't know…it's just…" Romano trailed off as he turned his gaze away from his brother. Italy reached over and he slowly petted Romano's left cheek. "It's just…what?" he softly inquired.

Romano sighed deeply and he looked back up to Italy. "I…I have trouble sleeping by myself. I've always have...Remember, we used to always sleep together when we were children…and when I was forcefully sent away to Spain, I used to have one of the female servants look after me…then I eventually started spending nights with Antonio…I don't know, I guess I have issues…"

"No, you don't, fratello…you seek comfort, that's all. There's nothing wrong with that," Italy sympathetically told him. He brought his hand away from Romano's cheek and he rested both hands onto his brother's shoulders. "Would you like for me to stay?" he tenderly asked.

Romano eyes slightly widened and he expressed relief on his face. "C-Could you? I-I mean…you don't have to stay the whole night…*hic!* …just be with me until I fall asleep. I know that the potato-eater will want to have you all to himself soon."

"All right…I'll stay with you…only for a little while," Italy answered and he started to stroke Romano's hair again. Romano released another yawn and he smiled up to his brother. "Grazie," he said.

Meanwhile, Germany grumbled to himself as he overheard Italy's agreement. _"Verdamnt! I don't want him to! I want him to be with me now!" _he whispered to himself with frustration. He folded his arms and he brought them to his knees. He then rested his head onto his folded arms and he sighed. _"I wonder how long this will take?"_

Back inside the guest room, Italy was continuing to stroke Romano's hair. His older brother fidgeted on his lap as he found it difficult to fall asleep. Italy raised his right hand and he reached above himself to turn off one of the two lamps mounted on the wall. Once he did so, he resumed running his fingers through Romano's hair. "Does that help?" he asked.

"N-No…not really," Romano admitted.

"Would you like for me to sing you a lullaby?"

"A…lul-la-by? No! I-I'm too old for *hic!* lullabies –"

"Oh, no you're not! Nobody is ever too old to have lullabies sung to them! Why, I sing them to Germany all the time!" Italy proudly responded. Romano smirked up to him and he rolled his tired eyes. "W-What a big wimp he is," he teased.

Germany looked up and his face turned crimson with anger. He stared at the animals who were still by his side in the hallway and he complained to them in a whispered tone. _"__I'm__ the big wimp?! He's the one whining about not wanting to be left alone! What's with him?! Is the bastard afraid of the dark?! He's so pathetic!" _

Back inside the guest room, Italy continued to pet Romano's hair. He smiled down to him and he gently started to hum a pretty melody. As he slowly hummed, Germany stopped complaining to the household pets. He froze as he listened to his beloved's beautiful tenor voice humming to his brother. He recognized the melody that he was performing – it was _his lullaby_. Italy wrote it especially for him. His fears and anxiety diminished. He suddenly got to his knees and he crawled up to peek through the door so he could watch Italy sing to Romano. The three dogs and the two cats did the same and they silently fidgeted around one another so they could get a good view. Finally, the animals and Germany settled and they quietly listened together to Italy's singing.

Sleep, sleep, my sweet baby,

Close your weary, tired eyes.

Sleep soundly, my baby,

Please do not cry

I am by your side.

* * *

Sleep, sleep, my sweet baby,

You have nothing to fear.

Sleep soundly, my baby,

Please shed no more tears

I am right here.

Italy's silky, calm voice slowly made Romano's eyelids become heavy. He tried to keep his eyes open, but Italy's soothing singing voice and his soft vibrato prevented him from doing so. His monotonous hiccupping had finally subsided and before he could realize it, Romano was seduced into a deep slumber. Italy looked to his now sleeping brother and he smiled to him. He continued singing the rest of the lullaby to him as he stroked his dark locks.

Sleep, sleep, my sweet baby,

My special gift sent by God.

Sleep soundly, my baby,

You know that you are loved,

My darling, precious dove.

Germany felt a huge lump in his throat. His partner's singing voice touched him so much. The animals contently agreed and they looked to their Papá with love and awe at his talent. Germany could not stand being away from his beloved's side any longer. He got up on his knees and he stood closely to the door. He would make his entrance at the precise moment.

Sleep, sleep, my sweet baby,

As I sing this lullaby to you.

Sleep soundly, my baby,

You know my words to be true…

Suddenly, Italy looked across the room as he watched the guest room door opening. There standing before him was Germany with a small smile forming on his face. Italy blushed to him as he sang the final verse of the lullaby and he stared into Germany's piercing blue eyes as he did so.

…I love you…I do.

Germany and Italy silently stared to one another with love and devotion. Not a word was exchanged inside the silent room. The silence, however, abruptly ceased as Romano's started to softly snore. Italy grinned to Romano and he lightly giggled at this. He then looked up to Germany again and his beloved slowly walked up to the side of the bed. Germany reached over and he stroked Italy's cheek. Italy smiled to him as he reached to gently grasp his beloved's hand. "He's _finally_ asleep!" he quietly uttered.

"I can _hear_ that," Germany said as he looked at Romano. He then focused his gaze to Italy again. "You sang him _my lullaby_," he light-heartedly teased.

"Y-You don't mind, do you?" Italy asked with hesitance. Germany smirked at him and he squeezed his hand. "Nein, I don't. It got the job done, didn't it?"

"Si…it did. Grazie, Germany…for allowing my brother to spend the night in our home."

"You should be thanking yourself. He only stayed because of you."

"He'll thank you in the morning…once he's sober…I-I'm so sorry about his drunkenness. He's usually never like this."

"I sort of like him this way. He finally has a _personality._"

Italy gasped with surprise and he released his hold to Germany's hand. "Shhh! You're so mean!" he teased as he playfully slapped his beloved's thigh. At that moment, Germany leaned forward and he planted his lips onto Italy's. It was a quick peck, but Italy quickly leaned in and he prolonged their second kiss. Their tongues swished and pressed together as they expressed their longing for one another. When they finally parted their lips, they quietly gasped as they caught their breath. Germany pressed his forehead against Italy's and he rubbed his nose against his beloved's profile. "Ich liebe dich," he quietly uttered.

Italy cheeks blushed profusely and he gave Germany another kiss against his cheek. "Te amo, anche…te –"

_"SHHHHCCCCCHHHHH!…Zzzzzzz…" _Suddenly, Romano had killed the romantic mood between the two nations with an obnoxious snore. Italy covered his mouth as he tried not to laugh out loud and Germany could do nothing else but squint his eyes to Romano. "He did that on purpose. I just know it," he hissed.

"Of course he did," Italy teased as he quickly kissed Germany's nose. He then carefully lifted Romano's head off of his lap and he rested it onto the mattress. He crawled out of the bed and he stood by his partner's side. Germany wrapped his right arm around him and held brought him close to himself. Italy hugged Germany's torso and he nuzzled against him. "He looks so peaceful and innocent, doesn't he?" Italy doted as they both watched Romano snoring; his mouth opened and a trickle of drool starting to run down the side of his mouth. Germany sighed and he looked away with annoyance. "Ja. What an angel," he sarcastically commented.

"Could you do me a favor, tesoro?" Italy asked as he turned his devotion to Germany.

"Uh…sure, I guess."

"I need you to _lift him up_ so I can properly tuck him into bed."

"W-What?!" Germany cried, "I-I don't think that's such a good idea! Suppose he wakes up – "

"He won't! I promise you! He's a very deep sleeper!"

"D-Do you really think it's necessary to tuck him in? It's sort of humid outside. I have the A/C on. He looks comfortable as he is right now."

"B-But what if he catches a chill from the A/C? He doesn't have much clothes on!"

"I…I," Germany hesitantly looked at Romano semi-naked body and he cringed. He did not want to lift him, let alone touch him. If anything were to go wrong, Romano would give him a good beating. Germany was not in the mood to be physically assaulted. "I…I don't want to," he stubbornly said.

"P-Please –"

"Nein!"

"Pleeeaaaasssse, honey…pretty please?" Italy softly whined. He looked up to Germany with his eyes widening and moistened with tears. Germany heavily sighed. He hated to see his beloved distressed. Italy knew how to tug his heartstrings and getting him to do things on his behalf. "All right! All right! I'll do it! Just please stop looking at me like that!" he insisted.

Immediately, Italy's dramatic expression turned joyous and he closed his eyes and grinned. "Grazie!" he exclaimed and he kissed Germany's cheek. He then broke his embrace from him and he walked to the other side of the bed and he began to peel back the bed sheets. Germany sighed again as he positioned himself to lift up Romano. He slowly and cautiously slipped his arms underneath the nation's slumbering body and he softly counted to himself. "Ein…Zwei…T-TREI!" he said and he lifted Romano off of the bed.

He cradled Romano in his arms as he walked over to the other side of the prepared bed. He was about to lay him back onto the mattress until he noticed something peculiar about him. Suddenly, Germany motioned his arms up and down as if Romano were a barbell like the one he had inside the gym in their home. "Hmm…" he observed as he continued moving his arms up and down, "Romano is _heavier_ than you," he stated.

Italy giggled to Germany and he nodded in agreement. "He really loves to eat!" he said. Finally, Germany carefully laid Romano onto the bed. As he did this, however, his nose accidentally rubbed against the nation's Erogenous Zone curl. Romano immediately tensed up and he started flinching by the pleasurable sensation his curl gave off. He expressed a couple of frustrating snorts and he subconsciously held up his left arm. _"Oooooh…Antonio! Stop it!"_ he cried in his sleep and he suddenly slapped Germany in the face. _"I-I'm not in the mood!" _Romano then turned his backside to Germany and he unintelligibly mumbled in his sleep.

Germany was absolutely horrified by what Romano had done to him. "Oh, Gott! I did not just hear that!" he cried with disgust and he rushed out of the guest room. Italy pulled up the bed sheets and he covered his brother up to his neck. He then lovingly kissed him on the cheek. _"Buonanotte!"_ he whispered. Then, Italy turned off the last remaining lamp that was bolted above the bed. He walked away by Romano's side in the dark and he headed out of the guest room. As he was about to close the door, the animals suddenly darted into the room. They had decided to spend the night with their wonderful Zio. Berlitz the Doberman jumped onto the bed and he lovingly plopped next to Romano. He extended his canine arm over to him and he rested his black paw onto Romano's hand.

Italy smiled at his 'children'. He was happy to see that his brother would not be sleeping by himself after all. He blew kisses to all of the animals and then left the room. He then proceeded to walk down to the other side of the hallway toward the Master bedroom that both he and Germany occupied. As he entered inside their room, he closed the door behind him. When Italy turned around, he was suddenly embraced by his beloved and given a multitude of kisses. Italy moaned with satisfaction and he exchanged kisses with Germany as well onto his lips, his cheeks and the side of his neck. As he did this, Germany unbuttoned his partner's blue dress shirt and he slipped it off of him. He discarded it by throwing it to the side, never minding where it landed.

"You must be exhausted," Germany uttered and he started to kiss Italy's pale, hairless chest. Italy cooed by the sensation of Germany's kisses and he ran his hands through his blond tresses. "I was…but I've revived somewhat," he said. Then, Germany got down to his knees and he unbuckled the nation's leather belt. He slipped it off of his waistline and threw it to the other side of the room and then he focused his attention to Italy's pants. Slowly, he unbuttoned and unzipped the suit pant and he leisurely pulled them down. Italy looked to him and he smiled. "What are doing?" he teased.

"Oh, nothing…I'm just getting you comfortable…that's all," Germany seductively answered as he embraced the nation's waistline. Then, he suddenly lifted up his beloved and he cradled him in his arms, only this time more tenderly and warmly than he did with Romano. Italy squealed with delight as he was being carried to their King sized bed. As they stood before the bed, Germany started to motion him up and down like a barbell. "Oh, ja…you're definitely much lighter than Romano," he commented.

"Stop it!" Italy cried and he giggled at him. Germany stopped motioning his arms and he carefully placed Italy onto the bed. Italy shifted aside to make room for his partner and Germany crawled right next to him. He positioned himself to be on top of Italy and he started kissing the nation's face. Italy cooed and vee~'d by every peck he received on his blushing face. He devotedly looked up to his partner and he returned the same gesture to him. As he embraced him tightly in his arms, he could suddenly feel and _see_ Germany visibly trembling. This was very unusual behavior for him to exhibit and Italy became concerned. "Ludwig? Are you okay?" he softly asked.

"W-What? J-Ja, I'm all right…w-why do you ask?" Germany hesitantly responded.

"You're shaking, tesoro…why are you so nervous?"

Indeed, Germany's nerves were very shot up. He had been through so much tonight – driving to Bagno a Riopi, spying on his partner and his brother and, by some great miracle, cheating death after driving off of a cliff. It had been a very long, exciting night for him. Thinking about it was almost too overwhelming for him to believe that it actually happened at all. The biggest irony of all was that Italy was completely oblivious about everything. If only he knew that the _suspect_ that the Italian authorities were looking for was _mounting_ on top of him right now.

"Honey…if you're afraid that Romano will hear us…then we don't have to do anything tonight…" Italy reassured him and he kissed his partner's cheek. Germany looked into Italy's luscious brown eyes and he interpreted what they said to him. They desired for him. They hungered for his touch. After his brush with death, there was no possible way that Germany was going to put off making love to him. Right now, he should be lying dead at the bottom of a cliff. Instead, he was _here_ inside their bedroom with his kindred spirit enveloped in his muscular arms. He was grateful to God for being alive right now. He kissed Italy hard on his moist lips. As their tongues wrestled inside their mouths, Germany reached over to the lamp next to their bed and he turned it off.

Their lips parted and a thin string of saliva bridged between them. Germany's tongue licked it up and he smirked at his partner. _"I don't want to wait another second,"_ he whispered and his lips slowly traveled from Italy's lips onto his chin and the side of his neck. Italy cooed with even more enthusiasm than before by his lover's enticing smooches and he suddenly leaned forward to suck on Germany's right earlobe. Germany's skin turned goose pimply and he let out a deep, pleasurable moan. _"Lets find out if your brother can sleep through this…" _he whispered and he held up and rested Italy on his lap as they were now in sitting position. Suddenly, Italy let out a yelp of surprise. Germany had begun kissing down the back of his neck and his Erogenous Zone curl was being twirled around his index finger.

_"Ooooooh…Ludwig…Veeeeee~…"_

* * *

Author's Note: Yep, Romano pointed out at how unrealistic it was for Germany and Spain to survive the free fall off the cliff side! I like poking fun at my own writing. I couldn't resist. XD


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Bright sunlight shined through the bedroom window and spotlighted upon Germany's pale face. The nation stirred in bed as he tried to shade his eyes from its rays. Realizing that he was now fully awake because of this, Germany heavily sighed and he slowly sat up in bed. He rubbed his eyes and yawned out loud. Afterwards, he looked to his right side and expected to see Italy still asleep next to him. To his surprise, however, Italy was not there. "He's up early," he said to himself. He then turned his gaze to the time that showed on the cable box from across the room. It was 12:25PM.

"Oh, Gott…I've slept in. I've wasted half of my Monday," he dissatisfiedly said. He then got out of bed and walked into the bathroom. He showered, brushed his teeth, combed and gelled his hair back and he dressed himself in his work out attire. As he finished tying up his laces to his running shoes, Germany left the bedroom and headed down the hallway toward the stairs. As he walked through the hallway, however, he decided to take a peek inside the guest room where Romano had spent the night. He headed to the guest room and once he was there, he opened the door.

Germany peeked inside the guest room. Romano was not inside. The household pets, however, still occupied the guest room and they had gathered together onto the messy bed and were still slumbering. Any evidence of Romano's presence inside the guest room was non-existent. Even the leather shoe that the nation had thrown up onto the elk's antlers was missing. "He finally went home," Germany uttered and he closed the door.

He proceeded to walk to the stairs and once he had reached up to them, he hurriedly descended down the steps. As he was doing this, his nose suddenly sniffed the succulent aroma of homemade cooking throughout first level of the mansion. Germany's mouth watered and he smiled. "Italy's prepared something delicious!" he excitedly said and he rushed down the steps. Once at the bottom, he walked through the living room and then to the dining room. To his surprise, the dining room was not being used. "Hmm…he must still be cooking," he thought. As he walked up to the door that led inside into the kitchen, he froze in place as he suddenly heard two voices causally talking to one another. Germany carefully cracked open the kitchen door and he peeked inside.

There inside the kitchen were Italy and Romano sitting side by side and eating brunch together at the kitchen table. Romano was finally sober from last night's shenanigans and by some miracle he was not suffering from a hangover. He was dressed in the same clothes that he wore on Sunday. Italy was dressed in his usual pink tank top and a pair of yellow shorts. He also had his full kitchen apron adorned over himself. It was red and white checkered patterned with ruffled shoulders. His feet were adorned with a fuzzy pair of Doraemon plush slippers.

Germany glared toward Romano's direction. _"He's still here?! That bastard!" _He hissed to himself. As he watched the Italy brothers visiting, he paid close attention as to what they were discussing about. Italy was holding up his iPhone and he handed it to his older brother. "Has he realized I activated Siri on his phone?" he asked himself. Panic-stricken, Germany listened carefully to their conversation.

"What's this supposed to be? A waffle cone?" Romano asked as he held up the iPhone and looked at Italy's new phone cover.

"No! It's supposed to be a chocolate bar, silly!" Italy happily said as he poured another serving of Espresso for his brother.

"Why did he change it? There was nothing wrong with your other covering, was there?"

"I don't know. He just saw it while he was downtown and he thought about me. Perhaps because of its cuteness, it'll be impossible for me to forget it. It's a sweet gesture, isn't it?"

"I suppose," Romano coldly uttered. Deep down inside, however, he secretly admired the covering. As he held the iPhone in his hand, he took notice of the charm that was dangling at its side. "What the fuck is this?!" he asked as he held up the charm with his other hand.

"It's a cellphone charm! You know, like the kind Japan has on his phone! See the tiny bell? That lets me know that I have my cellphone with me inside my pocket! I'll never misplace it anymore!"

"The charm is shaped…like a bowl of pasta," Romano commented as he gawked at it.

"Si! Isn't it cute?! Veeeeee~!"

"Uh…sure, whatever…" Romano hesitantly uttered. He wanted to confess to his brother that it was the cutest thing he had ever seen. He loved everything about Italy's phone. But because these items were given to him by Germany, he stubbornly pretended not to be impressed. His poker face was not entirely convincing, however and Italy picked up on that. "You _really_ like what Germany gave me, don't you?" he probed.

"Wh-What?! N-No! I-I mean –"

"Admit it! You're impressed!" Italy happily cried as he nudged his right elbow to Romano's left shoulder.

_"Chhhiiiggiiii,"_ Romano dejectedly hissed, "Everything is really…really –"

"Cuteness?!"

"S-Si…it's darling, really…it was nice of him to do this for you," Romano murmured as his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Italy gleefully embraced his brother and he softly giggled. "I knew it! You can't fool me, Roma!"

_ "Chigi…"_

"Hey! You should ask him if there were any _tomato charms_ available where he bought my things!"

"No! You ask him on my behalf!"

Italy broke his embrace from Romano and he resumed cutting and eating a slice of homemade Tomato Spinach and Ricotta Frittata. (It's a type of egg and cheese omelet that's baked quiche-style) "Nuh-uh! If you want your very own tomato charm, you gotta ask him!"

"NO!" Romano shouted and he stubbornly folded his arms.

Italy reached over and he grabbed a warm bread roll and a jar of Nutella. He sliced the roll in half and he smeared the spread onto it. "You're so cute when you're like this," he said as he served the bread to his brother.

"I-I am not! Damn it!" Romano scoffed and he grabbed his bread and chomped a huge portion off. His lips became heavily glazed with chocolate-hazelnut goodness.

Italy smirked at Romano after taking another bite of his food. "Oh well, at least I got you to admit that you like what he gave me!"

"D-Don't remind me," Romano grumbled.

Italy leaned closely to Romano to wipe the Nutella off of his lips with a tablecloth napkin. "Germany is always doing sweet things like this for me! He really is a wonderful person. You know this…he's always been good to you, too." Italy then stopped fussing over him and he backed away.

Romano sighed with annoyance and he picked up his espresso cup. While he sipped his coffee, Italy continued to speak to him, but this time with a slight hesitance to his voice. "I-I want you to _thank him_ for letting you spend the night."

Romano slammed his small espresso cup onto its saucer. "Mio Dio! Do I have to?!" he groaned. Italy nodded and his smirk diminished. He worriedly looked at him with apprehension after his sudden outburst. "He did a very kind gesture by letting you stay in our home. It's the least that you could do."

"I'd rather be dead," Romano grumbled.

Italy looked down to the table and he sighed. He thought it was terrible how his brother's bitter vendetta with Germany has continued after all these years. He had secretly petitioned to God on numerous occasions to have them reconcile. But it seemed impossible even for Him to do. The atrocious memories of WWII continued to haunt them. It haunted him well: the battles, the slayings, the injustices and most importantly, his _decision_ – a decision that was ultimately the biggest mistake he ever made in his life. It was the sole reason as to why Germany and Romano hated each other. It was _his fault _that they were enemies.

Italy looked up to his brother again and he tenderly pleaded to him. "Roma…please don't be rude to him when he wakes up and joins us. For once, make an effort to be civil with him. I don't want a fight to escalate…please, fratello," Romano sighed again and he looked into his brother's sad eyes. "Okay…for your sake, I'll do it…but I can't promise you anything," he muttered.

"Grazie, fratello! Grazie…" Italy gratefully answered and he placed his right hand over his brother's left hand and he squeezed it. Afterwards, he released his grip to his hand and he brushed his fingertips onto Romano's beautiful Spanish crested gold ring that he wore. For as long as he could remember, Romano has always worn this ring. He did not understand though why he wore it on his ring finger on his left hand – this was a spot reserved for wedding bands by married couples. His brother and Spain were not married. Perhaps Romano was oblivious about the significance of wearing his ring there. Whatever the reason, Italy never bothered to correct him about it.

Meanwhile, Germany continued to eavesdrop on the Italy brothers' conversation. He detested Romano's bad attitude for having to thank him. _"He's such a jerkoff…damn him!"_ he whispered to himself.

Italy brought his hand away from Romano's and he grabbed his fork and resumed to eat his breakfast. Romano heavily sighed as he was now burdened with the task of being gracious to his foe. "I…I still don't see how I need to thank him…I mean, he _had_ to let me stay. I was sort of tipsy last night – "

Suddenly, Italy started to cough profusely with his mouth full of food after he had listened to his brother's description of his drunkenness. Romano was startled by Italy's semi-choking and he roughly patted behind his back. "Mio Dio! Chew your food for fuck's sake!" he cried. Finally, Italy was able to swallow the food in his mouth and he started to crack up with laughter. Romano fidgeted in his seat as he witnessed his brother giggles increase into uncontrolled laughter. "W-What's so funny?!" he demanded.

"Oooh, Roma! You were anything _but tipsy_ last night! Eh-heh!" Italy cried and he let out another loud cackle.

"I-I was?"

"S-Si! You were drunk! D-Drunk as a s-skunk!"

"BULLSHIT! I-I never let myself get that bad!" Romano angrily insisted.

Italy grabbed his iPhone and he held it up to his ear. "You were so darling when you spoke to Big Brother Spain over the phone! You're so _devoted_ to your precious Antonio!" Italy lovingly teased and he began to poorly imitate Romano's baritone voice. "Oh, Antonio! Mi amor! Mi amooooooor!" he enthusiastically said.

"W-WHAT?!" Romano shrieked as he watched his younger brother imitating him. He had no recollection of himself publically expressing his love for his partner.

"Te amo! *smooch!* Te amo! *smooch!* Te amo! *smooch!*"

"F-FUCK YOU, VENEZIANO! I-I I'VE NEVER DONE THIS!"

"Oh, yes you haaavvveee!" Italy ecstatically answered in a singsong tone, "You did it last night on the front steps of the house!"

"Y-YOU'RE LYING!"

"No, I'm not! Spain called on Germany's cellphone and you talked to him on it! You gave him so many kisses over the phone that you left saliva on it!"

Romano suddenly started to gag as he realized that he had pressed his lips onto Germany's cellphone. He was completely mortified that his behavior went out of line last night. "A-AND YOU DID _NOTHING _TO STOP ME?! YOU BASTARD!" he angrily screamed.

At this very moment, Germany cringed as he remembered how is iPhone was violated by Romano. _"Oh, Gott! I need to sanitize it!"_ he hissed.

Italy giggled profusely as he recalled what happened last night. "You were so romantico, Roma!" he cried and he continued to tease his brother by exaggerating his speaking voice even further. "_Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhh, Antoooniiiiooo!_ Tu sei la miaaa vitaaaaa! Te aaa – "

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Romano yelled and he shoved his half eaten Nutella glazed roll into Italy's mouth. Italy bit off a portion of the bread and he laughed with his mouth full of food. He then grabbed another warm roll, sliced it in half and he plopped on a huge dollop of Nutella on top of it. He leaned forward to his sulking brother and he teased him once again. "Ooohhhh! Antonio! Te amooooo!" he mimicked and he suddenly slammed the bread roll against Romano's face.

"AHHHH!" Romano wailed in a high pitch tone and he started to bust out laughing. He quickly scooped off some of the Nutella off of his face and he playfully plastered it onto Italy's face. "D-D-DAMN YOU!" he shouted while he laughed uncontrollably.

"GAAAAH!" Italy squealed as Romano smeared the Nutella onto his face and his giggling transformed into bellowing laughter. He then reached over and grabbed the sugar bowl and he scooped up a handful of sugar. "N-N-NEED SOME SUGAR FOR YOUR COFFEE?!" he struggled to say and he threw the sugar onto Romano's face. Romano screamed with laughter and he licked some of the sugar off of his lips. He immediately grabbed his glass of orange juice and he poured it over Italy's head. "H-H-HAVE SOME VITAMIN C, FR-FRATELLO!" he howled.

"M-M-MAMMA MIA!" Italy screeched as he felt the chilled orange juice spill onto his auburn hair and dripping down his face and neck. Suddenly, he stood up from his seat and he rushed over to where he had the eggs stored on the counter. He rushed back to Romano and he cracked two eggs on top of his head with both hands. "S-S-SUNNY SIDE UP! JUST THE WAY YOU LIKE 'EM!" he shrieked. Romano gasped with shock and he shivered from the slimy, cold sensation of raw egg running down his face. Suddenly, Italy lost his balance and his fuzzy slippers caused him to fall down onto the floor. He reached up and gripped onto the arms of Romano's chair and his eyes watered with tears as he continued to laugh out of control.

Romano grabbed the stick of butter off the table and he suddenly started to smear it onto his brother's hands. "PFFFFF! YOU G-G-GOT SOME BUTTER FINGERS!" he screamed and he started pounding his fist onto the table surface.

Meanwhile, Germany watched everything unfold inside the kitchen and he tried not to laugh too loudly. He stifled his voice by placing his hand over his mouth. He was so amused by what had suddenly manifested between the brothers. At the same time, however, he was a little upset at how dirty the kitchen was becoming. After he felt that Romano and Italy exchanged enough corny puns and food at each other, he decided it was time to break up their mischievous argument and he stepped inside the kitchen.

Germany walked over to the kitchen table and he peered over to see the Italy brothers wrestling together on the floor and cackling wildly. Romano was holding up a glass bottle of olive oil and he was drizzling Italy with it. "Guten Tag!" he amusingly said. Immediately, Romano dramatically gasped, dropped the olive oil and he grabbed his cloth napkin from the floor and he covered his face up to his eyes. He was absolutely _mortified. _He stood up and he rushed to the kitchen sink and he started to vigorously wash his face and dark hair. Meanwhile, Italy was continuing to scream with laughter and he stood himself up. "Buongiorno, Germany!" he squeaked with his arms extending outward.

Germany tensed up as he realized that Italy was about to hug and kiss him. He did not want his gym clothes or his face to become soiled with food. He held up his hands in front of himself and he sternly pleaded Italy to stop his pursuit of him. "Nein, nein, nein! Don't touch me – NEEIIIN!" But it was too late. Italy tightly glomped Germany's torso and he exchanged multiple sloppy kisses all over his face. Germany's clothes and skin were now blotched with food residue.

Italy pulled away from his beloved and he saw what he had caused. "Oh, no! I-I'm sorry! PFFT!" he choked. Romano turned his head to Germany's direction and when he saw how he looked, he obnoxiously snorted. Germany heavily sighed and he looked up to the ceiling. Italy broke his embrace and he hurriedly walked to the sink and stood next to his brother. He also started to wash his face and rinse his hair while Romano was drying himself off. When he was finished cleaning himself up as best as he could, Italy was handed the towel that Romano has used and he dried himself off. "D-Do you want me to serve you breakfast, honey?" Italy asked as he rubbed the dishtowel through his hair.

"Uh, sure…but please take your ti– " Germany was not even able to finish his sentence. Before he knew it, Italy rushed to his side and he pulled out a chair for him to sit in. When Germany did claim his seat, he was immediately served a generous portion of Tomato Spinach and Ricotta Frittata that was still piping hot from sitting inside the oven. He was also served sliced rolls with both Nutella and jam smeared onto them, a cup of Espresso, a large glass of orange juice and sliced bananas on the side. "D-Danke!" he said as he looked at his breakfast. As he cut off a piece of his omelet-quiche and took his first bite, his blue eyes rolled to the back of his head and he pleasurably moaned out loud. His breakfast was absolutely _delicious_. He adored Italy's cooking so much!

"Do you like it?" Italy modestly asked while he gently wiped the food smudges off of Germany's face with a damp cloth. Germany smirked at him and he nodded. "Absolutely! Danke!" he answered. At this moment, Romano had sat himself back down in his seat and he calmly sipped his Espresso as if the food fight never happened. Italy was about to sit down next to him until he took notice at the awful mess both he and his brother had caused. He walked up to the kitchen storage closet and he opened the door. He was about to bring out the cleaning supplies until Germany gestured him to stop. "Don't worry about it right now. Come and eat with us," he said. Italy smiled to his beloved and he obeyed. He closed the closet door and he walked back to his seat and sat down.

Romano tried his best to rub off the strains on his clothes, but it was of no use. He sighed and he avoided Germany's direction and he strictly looked down to his plate of food. Germany, too, did not make any effort to engage in conversation with him. Italy observed this and he decided that he would try to make them have small talk with each other. "Oh, Germany! My brother has something to say to you!" he warmly said.

"I-I do?" Romano asked with surprise.

"Yes you do, Roma!" Italy answered and he gently nudged him with his elbow. Romano came to the realization that Italy wanted him to give thanks to Germany for letting him spend the night. He groaned and he placed his fork onto the edge of his plate. "Of course," he muttered and he looked at Germany's direction. "I want to…th-th-th – gah!" Suddenly, Italy gave one hard kick against Romano's chair legs and causing him to shift a slight bit. Romano glared at his little brother and Italy simply winked to him. "Go on!" he said.

Romano sighed again and he looked back to Germany. "Th-Thank you…for letting me crash here overnight…" he then looked down to his plate and he nervously picked up his fork and resumed eating his breakfast. Saying something nice to Germany was the most difficult thing he has ever had to do. Germany was taken aback by Romano's words, even if he was pressured to say them and a small smile appeared on his face. "You're welcome," he responded and he took a huge bite of his breakfast. As he chewed his food, he asked Romano a question. "Did you sleep well?"

"Uh…yes…I did," Romano answered without making eye contact. Italy looked to both Germany and to Romano and he happily grinned. He was so proud to see them getting along at the kitchen table. "Isn't it nice that we're all together?" he gleefully asked. Both Germany and Romano tensed up a little bit and nodded. "Uh…yeah, sure," Romano uttered and Germany mumbled something unintelligible in German.

An awkward silence bestowed inside the kitchen. Only the sounds of the clinking of utensils and chewing could be heard. It was difficult for both Germany and Romano to share a conversation because they had bad blood between them. Italy ran out of ideas on how to keep them engaged and he simply gave up and ate his meal. Germany looked at the brothers and he was stumped to see how conservative their behavior had become. It was a far outcry from the food fight they had started only minutes before. He thought to himself what he could do to start a new conversation. Then, an idea popped in his head and he decided to act on it. "You were very drunk last night, Romano. I've never seen you like that before," he quietly said.

"Yeah, well…now you have. So what?" Romano dryly asked while he stabbed his banana slices with his fork.

"Don't be offended. I've been drunk like that plenty of times myself."

"Why am I not surprised," Romano sarcastically remarked. Germany ignored his tone and he continued to speak his point. "Seeing you drunk had me thinking about how you got that way – "

"I drank alcohol, stupid," Romano coldly interrupted and he consumed the sliced bananas off of his fork.

Germany gripped his napkin and he fought internally with himself to control his temper. Once the urge to physically attack Romano passed, he continued speaking. "I know that! What I want to know is _why_ you were so drunk. Where were you two yesterday? What did you guys do?" Germany already knew the answers to his own questions after he and Spain secretly spied on them at Bagno a Riopi. He was curious as to how the Italy brothers would answer and explain their whereabouts to him.

Suddenly, both Italy and Romano abruptly dropped their utensils onto their plates and they cautiously looked at each other. Their brown eyes indicated great concern to one another. Italy looked away and he avoided Germany's gaze and he focused his attention to his plate. Romano's expression became forbidding and he glared at the nation. "What's it to you?" he coldly asked.

"W-What?" Germany said, perplexed. He had not expected such a strong rebuttal to his questions. "I only asked what you guys did –"

Romano gestured his right hand and he pointed to himself and to Italy as he angrily responded. "What we do together is _none of your fucking business!_"

Germany sat up straight in his chair and he sternly pointed to Romano. "After last night, _you've made it my business!_ I have the right to ask!"

"No, you don't! You're being a snoop right now! You have no right!"

"Oh, please! What if something had gone wrong and I had no way of contacting you? Suppose that you had driven the car last night and got into an accident – "

"Oh, here we go!" Romano cried and he gestured his hands as he spoke, "You just _had_ to go there, didn't you?! I'm the irresponsible one, therefore we have to be strictly supervised by you for now on!"

"I'm not saying that! You're two grown men! You can do whatever you want! All I did was ask about how your day went yesterday! What's wrong with that?!"

"_Everything_ is fucking wrong with that! We have the right to privacy!" Romano cried and he slammed his hand onto the table surface. Italy's shoulders flinched by the slamming of his brother's hand and he solemnly continued to look at his plate of food. He did not want to get involved in the nations' argument.

"Why are you being so defensive?!" Germany angrily stated.

"Why can't you just drop it?!"

"WHY DON'T YOU JUST ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION!" Germany yelled across the table. Romano slammed both fisted hands onto the table and he pointed at Germany. "BECAUSE WE SHOULDN'T HAVE TO, YOU BASTARD!" he screamed.

"WHAT'S THIS 'WE' BUSINESS?! YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE FLAPPING YOUR BIG MOUTH AT ME!"

"VENEZIANO AGREES WITH ME! _FOR ONCE, HE'S ON MY SIDE!_ AREN'T YOU, FRATELLO?!" Romano yelled and he turned his gaze to his brother. Italy sighed and he continued avoiding the conversation. Germany stared intently at his beloved's direction. He searched for any signs on his face that indicated loyalty to his brother. But instead, all he could see was a frightened nation wishing to avoid conflict with the two men he loved the most. "Feliciano…please…what did you do yesterday?" Germany quietly asked.

Italy's eyebrows quivered and he fought with himself to hold back his tears. He was so upset by the nations' quarreling. He had high hopes that for once, both Germany and Romano would have gotten along and behave civilly at the table. Instead, they were vigorously fighting with one another like they have always done. He continued to remain neutral at the table and he avoided any eye contact with either of them.

Germany sympathetically looked at Italy's direction and he inquired again to him. "Feli? What did you do – "

"DON'T ANSWER THAT!" Romano abruptly hissed to his brother. Suddenly, Germany grabbed his fork and he violently slammed it against his plate. "GOTT VERDAMNT, ROMANO! LET HIM SPEAK!" he shouted.

"NO!" Romano bitterly shouted back, "I WON'T ALLOW YOU TO MINAPULATE HIM AGAIN! NOT LIKE _LAST TIME!_"

"OH, FOR GOD'S SAKE! YOU'RE STILL FUMING OVER _THAT?!_ I NEVER FORCED HIM TO DO ANYTHING! IN CASE YOU HAVEN'T NOTICED, THE WAR IS OVER! IT ENDED SIXTY-SEVEN YEARS AGO! MOVE ON!"

"THE WAR IN OUR COUNTRTY COULD HAVE ENDED BUT BECAUSE OF _YOU,_ _HE PROLONGED IT! YOU FUCKED EVERYTHING UP!"_

"QUIT CHANGING THE SUBJECT! WHAT THE HELL DOES THIS EVEN HAVE TO DO WITH MY QUESTION?!"

"IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH IT! YOU'RE BUTTING IN ON _OUR_ TERRITORY AGAIN! FIRST, YOU MINAPULATED MY BROTHER INTO JOINING YOUR PATHETIC CAUSE! THEN YOU INVADED OUR COUNTRY! NOW – EVEN NOW – YOU'RE INVADING US AGAIN BY WANTING TO KNOW OUR PRIVATE BUSINESS! SUNDAY IS _OUR DAY_. IT ALWYS HAS BEEN AND IT ALWAYS WILL BE. YOU CAN _NEVER_ BE A PART OF IT, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! DON'T EVEN FATHOM THE _HOPE _THAT YOU EVER COULD!"

Suddenly, Germany stood up from his seat and he pounded his fist onto the table again. "AS ALWAYS, YOU HAVE TO DISRESPECT ME IN MY HOUSEHOLD! SO THIS IS THE THANKS I GET FOR ALLOWING YOU TO SPEND THE NIGHT! FUCK YOU, YOU ALCOHOLIC SCUMBAG!"

Romano shot up from his chair as well and he pointed his index finger to Germany. "CHIGII! FUCK YOU, YOU DAMN KRAUT! I-I'M NOT AN ALCOHOLIC!"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! YOU'VE OVERSTAYED YOUR WELCOME!"

"I'LL BE GLAD TO LEAVE THIS _ROACH INFESTED NEST _YOU CALL A 'HOUSE'!"

"ROACH INFESTED?! HA! IF I HAD ANY, I WOULD THINK THAT YOU'D APPRECAITE THEM, CONSIDIERING HOW YOU'RE ONE YOURSELF!"

"CHIIIIIGIIIIIII!"

"GET OUT, YOU BASTARD! NOW!"

Suddenly, Italy clenched his hands into tight fists and he violently slammed them once onto the table. He slammed them so hard that the plates, glasses, Espresso cups and utensils visibly vibrated from the impact. Both Germany and Romano jumped by the sudden physical outburst and they gawked at him. Tears started to run down the nation's cheeks and he shouted at them. "SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU! I HATE IT WHEN YOU TWO FIGHT LIKE THIS!"

Both Germany and Romano's grimaces disappeared and they looked away and sighed. They both felt terrible for making Italy cry. Both nations timidly sat back down in their seats. Romano face-palmed himself and Germany looked down to his plate of food. He eventually looked back up, only to see Italy staring at him with tears steaming down his face. "I-I'm sorry," Germany softly uttered. Romano remained in his face-palming position and he said nothing to his brother.

Italy wiped away his tears with a trembling hand and he sniffled. Germany handed him his napkin and Italy grabbed it from him and used it to dry his face. He knew that this was an inappropriate moment to inquire again about Italy's whereabouts, but Germany could not resist. He wanted to hear from him alone his explanation, whether it would be truthful or a full-fledged lie. _'He has no reason to make things up! I saw what he did last night! He's done nothing wrong!' _he thought to himself.

"Feli…what did you do yesterday?"

"OH, CHRIST! STOP INTERROGATING HIM!" Romano bitterly shouted at Germany and he brought his hand away from his face and he slammed it against the table. Italy did not react to his brother's outburst. He continued to stare into Germany's blue eyes and his heart palpitated. Romano looked to him to see what he was going to do. When he could feel that Italy was going to respond, he stubbornly looked away and he glared at his plate.

"Feli…what did you do?"

"Ludwig," Italy answered in a soft, regretful tone, "W-What I do on Sundays is between my brother and myself. P-Please continue to respect my privacy…just like you've always done."

Germany was astonished by Italy's words. He could not believe what he had heard. He felt as if he had been backstabbed. Throughout their relationship, there was never anything to cause a division between them. Not even Romano could break them apart. But now there was something between them – a secret – an obscure, unanswered reasoning to his questions. Germany did not like this. He had always been truthful to his partner. What was Italy keeping from him? He wanted to inquire more, but he could not bring himself to speak. Meanwhile, Romano's lips formed a smirk and a smug expression was on his face. He felt victorious against Germany for keeping their day for himself and his brother. He was proud that Italy did not utter a single word of their routine on Sundays.

Finally, Germany spoke out loud in a calm, but irritated tone. "Fine then! I apologize for asking. Let's drop the subject…and pretend like this conversation never took place." He then grabbed his fork and he began to play with his cold food. Romano looked up to him and glared and he, too, mimicked the nation and he picked at his own plate. Italy slowly looked way from his beloved and he stared down at the table. He could do nothing else but to look at it. He was too upset to pretend to be interested in what was sitting on his plate. The tension inside the kitchen was extremely thick between the nations. An awkward silence lingered inside as well and everybody was feeling very uncomfortable. Germany was agitated by everything that had unfolded. He tried to put on a façade that he was over the heated conversation, but he clearly was not. He was angry. He was hurt. More importantly, he was confused.

Suddenly, Germany roughly pushed his seat back, causing its legs to make a loud pitch squeak sound against the wooden floorboard. He stood up straight with the attitude of an active duty soldier. Both Italy and Romano looked up to him with sudden surprise and Italy especially was not happy to see him leave the table. "Wh-Where are you going?!" he pleaded.

Germany walked away from the table and he headed up to the refrigerator. He opened one of the French doors and he pulled out a chilled water bottle. "I-I'm going for a jog…I have to warm up my muscles before I perform my weight training routine," he hesitantly said and he shut the refrigerator door.

"Y-You haven't finished your breakfast!" Italy cried.

"I'll finish it when I come back. You know it's bad to exercise with a full stomach," Germany blankly responded as he headed toward the kitchen door. As he was about the push the door forward and exit the kitchen, Italy spoke to him once again. "Ludwig!…Ludwig!" he whimpered.

Germany sighed and he brought his palm away from the door. He turned around to look at Italy. To his dismay, he could see the nation's big, beautiful brown eyes welling up with fresh, warm tears. His cheeks flushed from the emotions he was feeling and his shoulders slightly trembled. _"Ludwig…a-are you mad at me?"_ he pitiably asked.

Germany's heartstrings were tugged by Italy's tragic question. He _was_ furious with him. He felt betrayed by him. He felt like a complete fool for being left in the dark when it came to the Italy brothers' weekend routine. He wanted to scream at him and force out the truth in whichever way possible. But he could not. He did not want to cause Italy to become even more upset than he already was now. Watching him crying again – watching him cry at all crushed his spirit. He never wanted his beloved to feel frightened or melancholy, especially in the comfort of their own home. Germany expressed a small faux smile and he slowly walked up to Italy. "Mad? Of course not…why should I be mad?" he lied and he leaned forward to give a long, touching kiss onto Italy's trembling lips. Romano immediately looked away from them with disgust. He did not want to witness them kissing each other. Once the kiss had finished, Germany gently caressed Italy's wet cheeks. Then, he turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

After Germany had left them, Italy face-palmed himself and he wept. Romano turned around to look at his brother and he placed his hand onto Italy's right shoulder. "Veneziano…please stop crying…you did the right thing saying that to him…I-I have to deal with Antonio's questions like this all the time. They can _never_ be included on _our day._ You know this…Veneziano, look at me…please look at me, honey…" Romano reached over with both hands and he gently tilted Italy's head to face his direction. He lovingly wiped away his tears as he finished his sentence, "…believe me, fratello…_it's for the best."_

Italy nudged away from his brother's embrace and he looked straight ahead toward the kitchen door. He wanted to believe Romano. He wanted to believe that he was right and that their actions were justified. But he wondered to himself: if they were indeed doing the right thing, then why did it feel so wrong to him? He choked with emotion and he looked down to the table.

"Veneziano…I-I…"

_ "D-Don't speak to me…"_ Italy emotionally whispered. Romano stiffened by his brother's demand and he dejectedly faced away from him. He had miserably failed to follow his wishes by fighting with Germany. He felt terrible for betraying him this way.

_'For once, Germany is right…I __am__ a roach,'_ he mindfully criticized to himself.

* * *

Germany ran out of the house and he left the door ajar behind him. He ran out of his gated property and headed down the street. His mind was overwhelmed with various ominous thoughts while his feet carried him down the street. He was not paying attention to his surroundings. He ignored the open-mouthed gawkers from the other joggers who had taken notice of the food stains on his gym clothes. He did not give a damn about them. He did not give a damn about which direction he was running or to where he would eventually end up. All he could think about was the fight and his unanswered questions.

'Why couldn't he tell me anything?! What is he hiding from me?!' Germany thought to himself. As he ran a sharp corner and headed down another street way, his blue eyes were beginning to moisten with fresh tears. Being the vain individual that he was, he immediately started sniffling and he forcefully swallowed his tears. He would rather do this than to allow them to spill down his cheeks. He was too proud to be publically seen crying his eyes out.

He continued his monotonous jog out of the privatized neighborhood and he eventually reached the bustling metropolis of Berlin. He was surrounded by a multitude of people and the streets were crowded with various cars, bicycles and public transportation. Everything around him was annoyingly loud and ear piercing and yet this did not faze him. He continued to jog down the busy intersections, never minding his safety as he darted in front of oncoming traffic. Nothing mattered to him right now. Not even his own life.

Finally, his lungs began to ache in protest. It was time for him to settle down and take a breather. He started to slow his pace and he headed toward Volkspark Friedrichshain, a humongous urban public park. As he walked through the beautiful park, he picked out one of the numerous trees to lash out his anger upon and he angrily pounded his fists against the thick tree trunk. With each punch, he expressed a grunt of rage and he fought to hold back his tears. His knuckles stung with pain and eventually Germany ceased hitting the tree. He examined the bloodied scratches he had inflicted onto his knuckles. He could care less about it.

Germany brushed his bloody knuckles onto his shirt. He continued his pace through the park and he walked up to Swan Pond. He slowly sat himself down onto a park bench and he mindlessly stared at the pond, its swans and the weeping willow trees which surrounded the reservoir. A single tear escaped from the nation's eye and he stubbornly wiped it away before anyone could notice. Suddenly, his iPhone began to ring. He sighed and he reached inside his gym pant pocket to retrieve his phone. He read on its screen who was trying to contact him. It was Spain.

He sighed and he reluctantly answered the call. "H-Hallo," he uttered.

_"Hey, man! What's up?! How did Romano sleep last night? Is he still at your house? Because he hasn't arrived over here yet! Gee, I want to thank you again to letting him spend the night at your place. I hope he wasn't any trouble!..."_

Germany could not get himself to speak. He just silently listened to Spain's spastic rambling. His dull eyes followed a pair of swans floating along together on the pond's surface.

_"Germany? Hola…are you still there? Germany!"_

"Uh…" Germany expressed as the nation's voice through the receiver finally caught his attention. "…I-I'm sorry…were you saying something?"

_"Is everything all right? What's the matter?"_ Spain worriedly asked.

"I…I don't know where to begin…"

_"Oh, Dios Mio! What happened?! Please tell me!"_

"I…got into a fight with Romano – "

_"That doesn't surprise me…what did you two fight about this time?"_

"I…I asked him and Italy what they did last night…because I wanted to know how they would respond…"

_"Oh, really?! What did they say?! Did they mention about the intruders – AKA: US?!"_ Spain eagerly asked.

"No."

_"No? No what? They didn't talk about us?"_

Germany answered his friend in an embittered tone. "I mean…they didn't say a thing about their day…Romano…he became very defensive and he accused me of snooping…and he demanded that I mind my own business."

_ "What?! That's ridiculous! What about Italy? Did he tell you anything?" _

"He refused..."

_"What the hell?! Why are they doing this?! I-I don't get it!"_

"Me neither…"

_ "I swear to God, if I was attending a party and I witnessed something shocking, I'd be Skyping with Prussia and France to share with them all the details! Why don't they want us to know anything?"_

"I…I don't know…"

_"This is really strange…I don't know what to say…I-I guess it doesn't really matter anyway – "_

"Why do you say that?!" Germany angrily interrupted.

_"Well…you told me last night that we're not going to pursue them anymore on Sundays. So I guess…we'll never know what they're hiding from us."_

There was a long, silent pause between the nations. Germany's blond eyebrows twitched and they formed a stern frown upon his face. Spain was right – by not secretly following the Italy brothers anymore, they got to keep their so-called "double life" a secret. His words brought a strong realization to Germany that this cannot be so. "Oh, yes we are!" he suddenly cried.

_"W-What?"_

"We _are_ going to find out, Antonio! We'll pursue them this Sunday! And the next Sunday! And the Sunday after that! We'll follow their every move until we finally know what they're keeping from us!"

_"I…I knew you'd come back to your senses!"_ Spain happily cried through the receiver.

Germany's tone of voice became arrogantly confident once again as he spoke to his friend. "They don't want us to be included on _their day_, do they? They want to keep secrets from us, do they?! We'll see about that!"

_"I'm so excited now! This is going to be great! But wait! We can't ride inside Gretchen anymore! Will you be driving your Merdcedes?"_

"Oh, Gott! Nein! We'll be riding Gretchen, I assure you!"

_"B-But…she's so fucked up…"_

"We _have _to travel in Gretchen. It's a military vehicle. It can handle all kinds of roads and steep altitudes and it has a large gas tank. I won't have to refill during our travels like I'd have to with the Mercedes. Plus…Gretchen is bad ass."

_"You better hang up with me and call your friend at the auto shop!"_

"Ja, I will…before I do, though, there is something I have to tell you…Italy and Romano _did_ talk about us last night."

_"They did?! What did they say?!" _

"I eavesdropped in their private conversation when they were inside the guest room. They talked about us and how we ruined the party…they also said that the authorities are looking for us in Bagno a Riopoi after all the chaos and property damage we caused…"

_"You mean…we're criminals?!" _Spain gasped with astonishment.

"Unfortunately…ja, we are – "

_ "DIOS MIO! THAT'S SO AWESOME!"_ Spain excitedly shouted through the receiver. Germany immediately face-palmed himself as he overheard the nation's giddiness over their outlaw status. "Calm down, will you?! This isn't something to be proud of, you know!" he sternly insisted.

_ "This is so cool! You and I are partners in crime! We're like Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid! Or-or like Bonnie and Clyde! But I get to be Bonnie because I'm the cute one!"_

"Oh, mein Gott! Shut up!" Germany hissed.

_ "BUT WAIT A MINUTE!"_ Spain cried with distress, _"How can we travel in Gretchen throughout Italy if we're wanted by the police?! Wouldn't that be…really stupid?"_

Germany thought about this scenario for a moment. Once he could conjure up a rational response to Spain's question, he answered him. "Well…we're only wanted in Bagno a Riopoi, which is in the Tuscan region. The rest of the country doesn't know about us and I seriously doubt that a tiny rural town will cause an alarm and force the entire nation to be on lockdown while trying to find us. As long as we stay out of Tuscany, we'll never be caught. That's the way I see it."

_"Hmm…I don't know…are you sure about this?"_ Spain asked with hesitance.

"Of course I'm sure! When have I ever been wrong?" Germany demanded.

_"Well – "_

"D-Don't answer that!" Germany cried.

_"Muy bein, muy bein! I trust your word! You're in charge!"_

"I gotta go now, Antonio. I have to call the auto shop. I'll talk to you later, all right?"

_"Si, Senór!"_ Spain happily teased.

"Okay then. Auf Wiedersehen…see you on Sunday," Germany uttered with seriousness to his tone.

_ "Adios, Germany! Adios!" _Spain happily answered. Then, both nations hung up. Germany stood up from the park bench with a sense of purpose in his life once again. He was on a mission now – a mission to discover the truth that both Italy brothers were withholding from him. With the help of his friend and fellow nation, Spain, he had great optimism that they will succeed.

"I won't give up…the truth shall be revealed to us…there's no turning back now," he uttered to himself and he walked away from the park bench.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, I've added two story arcs to Alla Famiglia! One story arc is the bitter history between Germany and Romano that goes back to their involvement before and during WWII. It's interesting to know that Romano dislikes or even hates Germany, but I suppose there isn't a general reason as to _why_ he does. So in my AU, I have an idea as to how these two nations became foes. Everything will be fully explained in future chapters. This story arc is actually going to branch off as a second fanfiction. I'm about to begin writing it soon. Hopefully, I will have time to write it.

The second story arc is behind Romano's Spanish crested ring. It's introduction in Chapters 6 and 7 are pretty vague and I planned it this way, I guess. But again, its story and everything in general will be fully explained in future chapters.

Both story arcs correspond with the original story arc. The general theme of my story technically is family. Alla Famiglia means "To Family" in Italian. I hope that I'm able to pull this off. We'll see what happens!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Germany finally arrived back to his home. During his backtrack from Volkspark Friedrichshain, he called up his friend Dieter Wagner who owned and operated what was cleverly named Das Auto Krankenhaus (The Auto Hospital) in downtown Berlin. He asked him to stop by at his property in an hour and the auto mechanic obliged to do so. Now Germany had the task of getting Italy out of the house while Dieter stopped by to make a house call to examine Gretchen. Germany had an idea on how he could get his partner to leave for a couple of hours. All he could do now was hope that it will actually work out in his favor.

As Germany headed up the driveway, he noticed that Romano's Ferrari was missing. "That bastard has finally left!" he uttered to himself and he walked up the steps and entered inside his home. He proceeded to the kitchen and he slowly opened its door and he silently stepped inside. Before him stood Italy in front of the kitchen sink and he was sulkily washing dishes. His bloodshot eyes were moistened with tears and his stuffed up nose sniffled with each quiet choke of emotion he expressed. His violet kitchen gloved hands held a dinner plate and a sponge and he mindlessly scrubbed it clean. While he was doing this, he transfixed his stare at the window that was above the sink and he sadly looked outside.

_'Poor Italia…'_ Germany thought to himself. As he began to step forward to be by his side, he took notice that the kitchen floor had been cleaned and mopped up. He decided to untie and take off his jogging shoes so he would not track any dirt onto the spotless floor. Italy overheard what Germany was doing and he slowly glanced over his shoulder to his direction. When both nations' eyes made contact, Italy sighed and he looked away and he placed the now clean dish to the drying rack on the counter.

Germany walked up to his partner and he wrapped his right arm over Italy's backside. "Are you okay?" he asked. Italy ignored his question and he focused his attention to the next dirty dish that needed to be scrubbed. Germany decided to lean forward to kiss his beloved's forehead. When he did so, Italy accepted his kiss, but did not acknowledge it and he continued to stubbornly wash dishes.

"I noticed that Romano has left," Germany stated as he tried to make small talk. At this moment, Italy placed the now cleaned dish onto the dish rack and he sighed. "Si…and don't worry, h-he'll never stay over or…or even s-step inside the house ever again…" he softly uttered.

Germany was personally relieved to hear this news. However, he decided not to show that he was in front of Italy. He pretended to feel concerned just to get to his good side. "Don't say that…he is welcome to come back – "

"Why? S-So I can referee another fight between you and him?" Italy interrupted and he tossed his sponge into the soapy water. He looked up to Germany and his eyes welled with tears. "I _begged _him not to start anything with you…I _begged_ him to be respectful…and he couldn't go five minutes without bullying you!"

"I…I wasn't aware of this," Germany lied; he was indeed aware of this after he eavesdropped on their conversation earlier.

"I…I'm so sorry…I'm sorry, Ludwig…"

"It wasn't your fault, Feli…I provoked him with my questioning…and I lost my temper with him, as always…I'm as much to blame as he is…"

Italy looked away and he gripped the sink with his gloved hands. _"They were only questions,"_ he whispered. He closed his eyes and tears rolled down his face. He contemplated with himself whether or not he should break his silence and tell his beloved everything that he and Romano did together every Sunday. But he remembered his promise to his older brother to never utter a single word of their time together. He slowly opened his eyes and he resumed washing the dishes.

"Stop it," Germany softly uttered and he reached over to grip on Italy's forearms. He carefully slipped off each glove and placed them on the side counter. "You've done enough chores. You need to rest, mein liebchen."

"B-But I-I'm almost done with the dishes – "

Germany tenderly wiped away the tracks of Italy's tears off of his flushed cheeks. "I'll take over for you. You've done enough already. Bitte…don't cry anymore, Feli…I can't stand seeing you this way."

Italy lifted up the bottom portion of his kitchen apron and he used it to dry his eyes. Afterwards, he looked into his beloved's piercing blue eyes and he brought his trembling lips up to kiss his cheek. As he did this, Germany wrapped his arms around his slender body and he comforted him. Italy rested his head against his partner's chest and he closed his bloodshot eyes. He contently listened to the percussion of the nation's ancient heart and it lulled him into a sense of security and calmness.

"Did you two make up before he left?" Germany asked as he caressed his partner's auburn hair.

"S-Si…" Italy responded in a hushed tone, "I-I wish that you and him could have made up, too."

Germany did not respond to Italy's comment. He wanted nothing to do with Romano. He could care less if he never spoke to him again. In fact, he welcomed the idea of being completely disconnected from him all together. After a moment of silence between both men, Germany decided that this was the perfect moment to try his scheme to get Italy out of the house. "I think that you should spend the rest of the day pampering yourself…you haven't been able to fully relax since yesterday. Perhaps a day at the spa will be good for you. Would you like that?" Germany asked in a sly tone.

"The spa?" Italy asked with astonishment and he looked up to Germany. He quietly sniffled and he rubbed his nose with his hand as he answered him. "I…I haven't gone to the spa in a long time…"

"Exactly!" Germany exclaimed and he kissed Italy's forehead again. "You should clean yourself up and head over there right now! You deserve it! I'll even pay for it!" He then broke his embrace with him and he reached into his gym pant pocket and he pulled out his wallet. He opened it up and pulled out one of his credit cards. "Get yourself a nice oil massage and a facial. Get a manicure and a pedicure while you're at it! Do whatever your heart desires – it's on me!" he happily said and he handed his credit card over to him.

Italy's bloodshot eyes widened with excitement and his lips formed an eager smile. "Oooh! Oooh, Grazie! Grazie, Ludwig! Veeeeeee~!" he happily cried and he giddily hopped in place in front of his partner. Germany embraced him one last time and Italy attacked his face with a dozen kisses. "Veeeeeee~!" he ecstatically cried again and then he ran out of the kitchen and headed up the staircase.

"Well…that went smoothly," Germany said to himself as he listened to his beloved's feet stomping up the stairs. He put his wallet back into his gym pant pocket and he then reached into the warm sink water to retrieve the sponge. "Now I just have to wait for Dieter," he mumbled and he proceeded to finish up the rest of the dishes.

* * *

"CIAO, TESOROOOOO! TI AMOOOOO!" Italy happily shouted to Germany as he drove out of the driveway in his royal blue Lamborghini Murcielago convertible. Germany loyally stood on the front steps of their home and he waved goodbye to him. Within moments of Italy's departure, Dieter pulled up the driveway in the company tow truck. Germany waved to the middle-aged man and waited for him to park his vehicle. Once he did, Dieter stepped out of the truck and he walked up to the nation. He was a tall, broad shouldered man with peppered brown hair and striking blue eyes. He was dressed in his usual work uniform which was polka dotted with oil stains. "So! What's the urgency, my friend? It must be something serious if you're asking me to come to you!" he said as he rubbed his trimmed bearded chin with his right hand.

"I'm really going to need your help with Gretchen. She's…well…she needs a lot of work done on her," Germany hesitantly said. Dieter raised one eyebrow to the nation and gave him a puzzled stare. "What are you talking about? Gretchen is in fantastic shape! What has happened to her?"

"Well…umm…I think it'll be self-explanatory when you see her," Germany said and he extended his hand out which held the remote to automatically open his garage door. Before he could press the button to activate its opening, he sternly looked into Dieter's eyes and he spoke to him in a serious tone. "Before I show her to you, I need you to make two promises to me," he said.

"W-What?" Dieter asked with surprise.

"Bitte…it's important."

"Okay, then…fine, what do I need to promise?"

"First – Don't ask what happened."

"Uhh…okay."

"Second – Don't scream."

"Ooooookaaaayyy?"

"PROMISE ME!" Germany angrily demanded. Dieter hurriedly nodded his head and he obeyed. "JA! JA! Okay, I promise!" he cried.

Germany pressed the remote button and the garage door began to lift itself upward. Once the garage was opened, both men walked up to the vehicle and stood in front of it. It was still draped over with the white car cover sheet. As Germany reached over and gripped onto an end of the cover sheet, he kept his eyes on Dieter to make sure that he would keep his word. "Remember…you promised," he uttered. Dieter silently nodded and he gulped. The suspense was killing him.

Finally, Germany yanked off the cover sheet and he uncovered the mutilated Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen. Dieter's eyes widened with shock and his jaw dropped. He could not believe what he was looking at. His eyes wildly looked at every single detail to the extent of damage that the military vehicle endured. He noticed the multiple bullet holes. He noticed the shattered windshield. He observed the lack of side view mirrors. He gawked at the broken front steel bumper that was lying underneath the vehicle. He spotted the car roof stuck halfway up with bullet holes penetrated into its steel.

Dieter started to hyperventilate and his trembling, clammy hands cupped his gaping maw. His eyes burned with emotion and a sense of rage shot throughout his body. "OOOOOHHHHH MEEEEEIIIINNNNNNN GOOOOOOTTTTTTT!" he pathetically wailed and he immediately hugged the front hood of Gretchen.

"VERDAMNIT! I TOLD YOU NOT TO SCREAM!" Germany angrily shouted.

"G-GRETCHEN! OH, GRETCHEN! W-WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU, GIRL?!" Dieter pleaded as he stroked the cold steel hood with his sweaty hands. He turned his furious gaze to Germany and he lifted his right hand and pointed his index finger at him. "WHAT DID YOU DO TO HER?!" he demanded.

"ME?! I-I DIDN'T DO THIS!"

"SHE WAS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU! EVER! OH, GOTT! HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?! DID YOU ATTEND A WWII REENACTMENT THAT WENT TERRIBLY WRONG?!"

"DIETER – "

"WAS IT THOSE NEO-COMMIES THAT LIVE NEARBY?! DID THEY DO THIS?!"

"DIETER, PLEASE – "

"SHE'S RUINED! SHE'S ABSOLUTELY DESTROYED!"

"DIETER! SHUT UP!" Germany shrieked. Dieter slouched over and he rested his forehead against the steel hood and he started to weep. It pained him to see Gretchen in such a state. He was a devout car enthusiast with a passion for military vehicles. To now see Gretchen riddled with bullets absolutely devastated him. "D-Do you realize how _rare_ she is?! She was in mint condition! I-I worked so hard to preserve her...AND THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS!" he blubbered.

"I…I was afraid that you'd react this way," Germany said with remorse in his tone. Dieter lifted his head up from the hood but he kept his hands planted onto it. "What happened to her, Ludwig?!" he cried.

"I…I can't tell you," Germany stated.

"What?! Why not?!"

"I just can't, all right? I can't say a word to you."

"Oh, mein Gott…you're conducting Top Secret missions for the government, aren't you?! S-Should I be concerned about this?" Dieter dreadfully asked.

"You have nothing to worry about. What I'm doing doesn't affect you or my citizens. Lets just leave it at that."

Dieter lifted his hands off the hood and he wiped his eyes. "S-So…what am I doing here?! You expect my crew and I to fix all these damages?! Because much of this can't be repaired! Her exterior, for example…that's permanent damage right there."

"I-I'm not concerned with her appearance right now. What I need to have repaired are the shocks to the tires. They blew out. I also need you guys to craft a new set of side view mirrors and a rearview mirror. Repair the windshield, too…"

"We can do this for you…it'll take us a while, though. The shocks I can repair in an hour. But everything else will take weeks, even months to get done."

"I can't wait that long. I need to have you replace everything in _five days_."

"FIVE DAYS?!" Dieter cried in disbelief.

"Ja, you heard correctly. Five days." Germany said in a serious tone.

"B-But that's impossible for us to do! We're already booked with many appointments this week! Plus, I'd have to go to a third-party steel mill to obtain my resources to craft everything! We can't possibly complete everything in five days!"

"You _have_ to, Dieter. It's important to me that you do. I'll pay extra money to you and your crew just so I can get everything done by Saturday. Bitte…I need your help."

Dieter sighed and he mentally debated with himself whether or not he should accept this emergency commission. After a moment of silence, he made his decision. "Fine. I'll accept it. Only because you're my friend and my country…and I am your loyal and humble servant," he said.

"Oh, Gott! Enough with the chivalry!" Germany teased. Dieter briefly smirked at him and he stepped away from Gretchen. "I'm going to need you to come with me and fill out some paperwork at my office," he said.

"Sure, no problem," Germany responded and he grabbed the white car sheet cover and he draped his vehicle with it once again. Dieter walked back to his tow truck and he sat himself inside. He turned on the ignition and he drove in reverse and backed up as closely as he could in front of Gretchen. Then, he turned off the engine and he stepped out of the tow truck. He proceeded to hooking up Gretchen to his tow truck. Germany walked to the passenger side of the tow truck and he sat himself inside. Once Gretchen was connected with the tow truck, Dieter walked back to the driver's side and he sat himself down. He turned on the ignition again and he slowly drove out of the nation's property.

* * *

**Five Days Later – Saturday Afternoon**

Germany stepped off the public transit and he walked down the street to where Das Auto Krankenhaus was located. He had received a text message from Dieter that Gretchen was ready to be picked up. By some miracle, he and his crew were successful in replicating the parts that the car needed by the deadline. Germany was relieved that his friend had kept his word and did not let him down. When he finally arrived at the hospital inspired building, he opened the business door and walked inside.

He walked up to the front desk and a young, blond haired woman dressed in a very provocative nurse uniform greeted him. "Willkommen auf der Auto Krankenhaus! I'm 'Nurse' Jana! How may I – Oh, Ludwig! Hey!" she said in a sweet, lovable tone.

"Hallo, Jana! How've you been?"

"I've been great! Thanks for asking! How about yourself?"

"I'm doing fine," Germany said and he smirked at the faux nurse and shook his head with disbelief. "I can't believe Dieter still makes you wear that!" he amusingly exclaimed.

Jana giggled and her apple cheeks blushed. "Ja, I know! But he says it's what keeps the customers coming back! Plus, I get tipped very well, too! I can't imagine why! Hehehe! Are you here to pick up Gretchen?"

"Ja. Dieter said it was ready."

"I saw how she looked before! Mein Gott, she was in terrible shape! W-What happened to her, Ludwig?" she asked in a worried tone.

"Oh, uh…that's classified information, I'm afraid."

"Ooooh, I see! Secret spy stuff, huh?"

"Uh, ja…sure…eh-heh," Germany hesitantly answered. Jana was so gullible that she would believe anything that was told to her.

"Let me page Dieter to the front desk so you can get going!" Jana said and she pressed a button to activate a microphone that was positioned in front of her. As she spoke, her voice echoed from the intercom. _"Dieter! Sie haben ein Kunde wartet auf Sie an der Rezeption!" (Dieter! You have a customer waiting for you at the front desk!)_ She then lifted her index finger from the intercom button and she happily smiled. A minute passed and Dieter did not show up to the front desk. Jana became slightly irritated by his truancy and she paged for him again.

_"Dieter! Bitte kommen Sie an der Rezeption! Dankeschön!" (Dieter! Please come to the front desk! Thank you!) _She then expressed a radiant smile at Germany and she nervously giggled. "H-He should be on his way!" she insisted.

"No worries," Germany calmly said. Another minute passed and Dieter did not show up. Jana's patience grew very thin at this point and she pressed the intercom button again and she angrily screamed through the microphone. _"DIETER! KOMMEN SIE AN DER REZEPTION SOFORT! JETZT!" (DIETER! COME TO THE FRONT DESK IMMEDIATELY! NOW!)_

Suddenly, Germany felt a couple of douche chills run up his spine after he listened to the receptionist's rage. Jana flinched and she remorsefully apologized to him. "I'm very sorry, Ludwig! I-I shouldn't have yelled like that in front of you!"

"It's all right…it's just that…your screaming reminded me of one of my _former bosses,_" Germany uttered.

Jana looked at him with a perplexed expression her face. "Which one?" she innocently asked. Germany was taken aback by her cluelessness. It was obvious to him that he was referring to his most infamous boss, Adolf Hitler. Before he could have the chance to explain things to her, Dieter tiredly staggered to the receptionist desk from a side door. He had dark circles under his eyes and his eyelids drooped as he fought with himself to stay awake. "I-I'm here! No need...no need to shout!" he cried to Jana.

"Oh, Dieter! You look terrible!" Germany cried.

"I-I've been up for five days straight…so have some of my crew members…but we did it, my friend! Gretchen is patched up and ready to go!"

"Dankeschön! Dankeschön! I'm so thrilled to hear this!"

"Come with me to the garage. I'll show her to you!" Dieter insisted and both men headed to the side door, which led to the back of the auto shop. Germany turned around and he clicked his heels once and he bowed to Jana's direction. "Have a good day, Fräulein!" (Miss!)

Jana blushed again and she waved to the nation. "See ya next time!" she cheerfully said and she watched the nation and her boss leave the room. As both men headed outside to the multiple garage stations, their ears were bombarded with the bellowing sounds of mechanical tools in use by the auto mechanics. Dieter leaded the nation to where they needed to go. Finally, they walked up to the station where Gretchen was parked. Germany gasped with astonishment as he took notice of the now repaired windshield, the newly installed side view mirrors and the rear view mirror. The convertible hood was also fixed so it would not be stuck at half-mast anymore. Despite still having the exterior riddled with multiple bullets, the military vehicle was in much better shape now than it was five days ago.

Germany walked up to Gretchen and he closely examined the side view mirrors. He was very pleased with the craftsmanship that Dieter and his crew put into making them. "Mein Gott! You've outdone yourself! They look like the original mirrors!" he cried with excitement.

"It wasn't easy. You didn't make it easy for us, either by giving us a deadline. But we did it! Are you satisfied?" Dieter asked with pride in his tone.

"Oh, Ja! Ja, this is fantastic! Dankeschön, Dieter!"

"Bitte schön! (You're welcome!) I'm glad that you like our work! It's too bad that the rest of the car is messed up. I could _possibly_ find a way to replicate the exterior and just replace it all together. But please – lets do that _after_ you're done with whatever secret project you're doing right now!"

"Of course! I understand, my friend."

"Well, you're good to go! You have a good afternoon!" Dieter said and he handed Germany his car keys.

"Dankeschön! Take care and get some sleep!" Germany responded as he sat himself inside Gretchen and he started the ignition. Dieter released a deep yawn and he waved to the nation as he slowly drove out of the station. Before Germany drove off of the business lot, Dieter shouted to him to get his attention. "HEY!" he cried out. Germany stopped the vehicle and he looked back to the auto mechanic. Dieter brought his hands up to his mouth and he shouted again to him. "BE GOOD TO HER! I DON'T WANT HER TO GET ANY WORSE THAN SHE IS NOW!" he demanded.

"I'LL TRY!" Germany shouted back and he drove away.

"I was afraid he would say that!" Dieter mumbled to himself and he tiredly walked out of the station and headed back to his office.

As Germany drove up to an intersection and stopped for the red traffic light, he decided that once he found a place to park he would call up Spain to update him about Gretchen. When the traffic light turned green, he proceeded to drive forward. After a few minutes, he was able to find an empty parking space on the side of the road. He took the opportunity to park himself there. By chance, Gretchen was able to fit in the space despite her massive size. Once parked, he turned off the engine and he pulled out his cellphone out of his pant pocket.

"He's going to be so excited when I tell him the good news!" he said to himself as he dialed the nation's phone number.

* * *

"Lovi! I'm home!" Spain happily cried as he stepped inside the Spanish villa with his arms cradling a large paper bag filled with groceries. He closed the front door behind him and he settled the bag onto a nearby table. "Lovi? Where are you?" he asked out loud. He glanced around his surroundings to in search of his beloved, but he was nowhere to be found. "He must be upstairs," he said to himself as he picked up the paper bag and he walked over to a door that led inside the kitchen. Once he was inside the spacious, rustic kitchen, he settled the bag onto the marble counter surface and he hurriedly stashed away all the perishable food inside the refrigerator. After all the food was put away, Spain carefully pulled out a bouquet of yellow roses out of the paper bag.

Spain closed his eyes and he inhaled the heavenly scent that the roses gave off. His lips formed an eager grin as he anticipated on giving them to Romano. All he had to do now was figure out where he was located inside their mansion. With flowers in hand, Spain stepped out of the kitchen and he headed to the spiral staircase. "Hmm…I wonder which room he's in today?" he asked himself and he proceeded to walk up the steps. As he walked up the wide staircase, he looked to the wall and admired the numerous gold-framed artworks that hung on it. He was proud of his rare collection.

As he got to the top of the staircase, he pondered which room he should check first. Each room had a specific theme to it with accordance to an era in history. In a way, it was a physical timeline of their relationship together in their home. There were several rooms with their own theme: Edwardian, Victorian, Regency, Rococo, Baroque and Renaissance. Romano had begged him to have the rooms be this way because he could not bear to discard their precious belongings. So to fulfill his wishes, he preserved their numerous former living room sets in their specific rooms.

Spain walked up to one closed room and he opened the door. "Lovino?" he asked as he peered inside the Victorian themed room. He glanced at the red velvet Victorian furniture set to see if Romano was there. He was not. He took one last look inside and he admired their large oil painted self-portraits hanging on one of the walls. They both looked like two distinguished gentlemen dressed in their best evening suits. Spain stepped inside and he walked over to a table that displayed an antiqued framed photograph of himself and Romano posing together – Romano is sitting in a chair and Spain is sitting on the chair's right arm, leaning next to his beloved with his left arm over Romano's shoulders. "Dios Mio! 1874..." he said to himself as he read the date inscribed on the bottom right corner of the photograph. He kissed Romano's image and he smiled. "He was so dashing that day!" he commented and he placed the photograph back onto the table. He then stepped outside of the Victorian room and he closed the door.

"Lovvvviiiiiinnnnnooooo! Where arrrrrreeee yoooooou?" Spain said in a sing-song tone of voice as he walked down the hallway. He stepped up to another closed room and he decided to open its door. He peeked inside what was the Rococo era room. He looked for any signs of his lover inside the beautifully decorated room, but he was not here either. Spain looked straight ahead and he admired another oil painted self-portrait of them hanging on the wall. They were standing together and wearing the highest fashions that gentlemen in their time were supposed to wear – embroidered overcoats, ruffled, sequenced clothing, white powered wigs, stockings and heeled shoes. Spain smiled at his beloved's painted image and he winked at it. "What a cutie!" he said and he closed the door.

Spain walked down the hallway in search of his beloved Romano. He was about to call out his name again until he could suddenly hear the faint noise of music coming from one of the rooms further ahead. Spain rushed up to where the music was coming from. Once he got to the room, he slowly opened the door and he peeked inside. It was the Regency era room and inside was Romano standing onto the high steps of a tall metal ladder. He was positioned in front of a large wall-sized Regency style mirror and he was determined to get the smudges off of its surface. _'Awww! Mi chico tomate is doing housework! He must have guilt about something he's done!'_ he teased mentally to himself. He watched Romano's backside rhythmically bop to the tempo and beat to the song that was playing from the wireless Bose stereo system sitting on the table. He was sensually moving to a Motown song called "Could it be I'm Falling in Love" by The Spinners.

Spain bit his bottom lip and he smiled at what he was witnessing. _'Ooooh! Dat ass!'_ he lustfully thought as his emerald eyes transfixed their stare at Romano's firm butt bopping to the song. He stopped biting his lip and he slowly opened the door wider so he could step inside. As he did this, he hid the bouquet of yellow roses behind his back with his right hand.

Romano hurriedly wiped up a section of the mirror with a cloth while he bopped and hummed to the romantic Motown song. As he brought the cloth away from the mirror, Spain's reflection was seen where the cloth was once rubbing. Romano stopped humming and dancing and he smirked at his beloved's image. "That was a quick stop at the market! Did you get what we needed?" he asked to the reflection.

"Si! I sure did!" Spain answered and he walked up to the ladder. "What made you want to clean the mirror?" he asked.

"Uh, what's it to you?" Romano answered with a slight defense to his tone. His smirk diminished and he glared at Spain's reflection. Once Spain was next to the ladder, Romano turned his gaze to face him.

"I know you too well, mi corazón! (my heart!) You hate doing housework! You only decide to do something spontaneous as this when you've done something bad! What did you do?" Spain playfully teased.

"N-Nothing! I did nothing! You're paranoid!" Romano defensively cried and he started to descend down the ladder. Spain held onto the ladder with his left hand while his right hand holding the roses remained hidden behind his back. "Lovi, you shouldn't be using such a tall ladder as this all by yourself. You could easily fall," Spain doted.

"Screw you, Tony!" Romano hissed as he planted his feet on the floor. "I'm not clumsy anymore like when I was a child! You always think of me as incompetent!"

"Aww, honey, I didn't mean to offend you! I was only trying to give you some advice!"

"I don't need your lousy advice – "

"Hold up!" Spain interrupted and he reached over with his left hand to press his index finger against the left side of Romano's lips. "What is _this?_" he teased as he showed his partner what pressed onto his fingertip. "Why, this looks like cinnamon and sugar!"

"B-Bullshit!" Romano grumbled and his face flared red with anger. Spain then brought his finger to his own mouth and he licked the particles off of it. "It _is_ cinnamon and sugar! Did somebody eat all the churros again?" he playfully provoked.

_"Chiiigggiiii…"_ Romano hissed with embarrassment. There was no way to get out of this. He had been caught. "I…I" he stammered until Spain leaned forward and gave a quick peck onto his sweetened lips.

Spain smiled at his partner and he spoke in a comforting tone. "That's okay, mi amor! I'm glad that you like them so much! I can always fry up some more for us…but please, try to control yourself! You're getting a little on the plump side!" and he then suddenly slapped Romano's butt.

"I'M NOT FAT! –slap– CHHIIGGII!" Romano angrily screamed after getting his behind slapped. "YOU BASTARD! I HATE IT WHEN YOU DO THAT – " Suddenly, Romano stifled his shouting voice after Spain abruptly brought his right hand forward and he held the bouquet of yellow roses for him. The nation's face flushed a deep crimson and his brown eyes widened. Spain grinned at him and he spoke. "Para ti, mi cariño." (For you, my darling).

Romano took the bouquet out of Spain's hand and he closed his eyes and sniffed the scent coming off of the roses. He opened his eyes and they devotedly stared at Spain. He shyly hid his smile behind the bouquet. His anger toward his beloved immediately diminished. He slowly lowered the bouquet, revealing his trembling smile. "G-Grazie," he softly uttered as he avoided eye contact with Spain. At this moment, there was a brief silence inside the room until another Motown song began to play – "I'm Still in Love with You" by Al Green.

Spain stepped forward and he enveloped Romano in his arms. He leaned closely and he gave him a long, amorous kiss on his sweet lips. With the bouquet in between them, Romano hungrily responded to Spain's kissing and he gently began sucking his tongue into his own mouth. Spain expressed a pleasurable moan as he did this and he set his hands onto Romano's butt. He tenderly squeezed it and he pressed himself against his pelvis. Both nations slowly started to walk together to the tempo of the song and they veered toward the Regency era couch. As they got to the couch, Spain pinned Romano onto it and he mounted himself on top of him. Romano placed the bouquet onto the Persian rug and he pulled a single rose out of the bunch and he slipped it over Spain's left ear.

"Che bellezza!" (What a beauty!) Romano softly uttered and he grinned at his partner. Spain giggled and he started to kiss down his partner's neck. Romano cooed and gasped in desperation with each kiss that was given to him and his body shuddered from the ticklish sensations he felt from Spain's moist lips. He wrapped his arms around him and he tightly hugged him against himself. Spain coyly started to flick and tenderly tug Romano's Erogenous Zone curl, which caused the nation to shudder and gasp even more dramatically with each enticing infliction. "Mmmmph! A-Antonio! Ch-Chhiiiggii…Mmmmph!" Romano passionately expressed.

"Ooooh, Lovino..." Spain lovingly uttered as he pressed his pelvis against his partner's. He brought his hands onto Romano's chest and he slowly unbuttoned his plum colored shirt. Once unbuttoned, he then slipped off his undershirt. He suckled and licked on Romano's dark nipples and Romano bit his bottom lip and cooed. Romano ran his hands through his partner's wavy locks and he sighed with pleasure. As Spain started to kiss down from Romano's chest to his abdomen, his cellphone suddenly began to ring.

"D-Don't answer it! Please don't!" Romano pleaded.

"I-It might be important! It c-could be my b-boss!" Spain stammered and he reached inside his pant pocket to pull out his cellphone.

"A-Antonio! Oooh, please don't!" Romano pleaded again, but Spain decided to look at his cellphone screen anyway. His emerald eyes widened when he saw that it was Germany was calling him. "I-I gotta take this!" he cried and he tried to get up, but Romano refused to release him from his hug. "Nooo, Tony! It can wait!" he whined.

"Tomate, I have to answer this call!"

"W-Who's trying to reach you?"

"I-It's Germany!"

Suddenly, Romano's passion to make love floundered and he frowned up at his partner. "GERMANY?!" he shouted and he pushed Spain off of him. Spain plopped onto the Persian rug in a loud thud. He nervously laughed at Romano and he quickly stood himself up. "I-I'm sorry, cariño! This is important!" he insisted.

"IMPORTANT?! WHAT'S IMPORTANT IS THAT HE'S GIVING ME BLUE BALLS!" Romano shrieked.

"Honey, I won't be long. I-I'll be right back!"

"PISS OFF!" Romano cried with frustration and he stubbornly folded his arms in front of himself. Spain hurriedly left the room and he answered the phone. "Hola, Germany! What's up? – " Spain closed the door behind him and his conversation with Germany could not be heard by Romano.

Romano grumbled and he positioned himself upright on the couch. He was furious with Spain for postponing their intimate time together. "Why the FUCK did he have to do that?!" he cried to himself and he stood up off the couch and he stepped forward to the table. He turned off the Bose stereo and then he grabbed the bouquet of roses off the floor. "What's so fucking important to talk about with that potato bastard?! Mio Dio, he makes me sick!" He then walked up to one end of the room where an oil painted self-portrait of Spain in Regency era clothing was hung and he threw the roses at his image. "CHIIIGGIII!"

Several minutes passed until Spain re-entered the room. He spotted a shirtless Romano standing in front of a large window and he moped while he stared out at the garden fountain outside. Spain smiled at his direction and he rushed over to be by his side. Once he was, he tried to embrace his beloved, but Romano stubbornly denied him. "Go away!" he hissed.

"Lovi, please don't be mad at me! I had to talk to Germany, cariño – "

"What for?!" Romano asked as he turned around to face his partner, "What did you talk about with him, huh?"

"Umm…well…" Spain hesitantly said until Romano snapped at him again. "Well?! What is it?!" he demanded.

"Well, I'm going to visit Germany tomorrow! W-We're going to hang out!" Spain responded and he expressed a cheesy grin.

Romano raised an eyebrow to him. "Why?" he asked.

"W-Why not?! He's my friend! You know that – "

"He's not coming _here_, is he?! I don't want that asshole in our house!"

"Of course not, Lovi."

"Good!" Romano barked and he turned his gaze away. "Why was that so urgent for you to talk about with him?"

"I-I guess it wasn't. Does it really matter?" Spain tried to embrace him again but Romano snubbed him yet again. "Oh, honey…please don't be this way…"

"I told you to go away!"

"But Lovi - "

"NO!" Romano shouted and he turned his back to Spain again.

"Fine then," Spain said as he positioned himself. Then he reached underneath Romano's thighs and he lifted the nation upward and he hurled him over his shoulder. "CH-CHHHIIIIGGGIIIIII!" Romano screamed as he was now slouching over Spain's left shoulder. "L-LET ME GO!" he demanded.

"C'mon, baby! Lets continue where we left off!" Spain happily teased and he slapped Romano's butt. Romano flinched by having his backside slapped again and he kicked his legs repeatedly while Spain carried him out of the Regency era room.

"S-STOP IT, ANTONIO! STOP I- GAAAAAH!" Suddenly, Spain flipped him over and the nation was now being cradled in his arms. Romano squirmed as he tried to release himself from his partner's hug, but he could not do so.

"PUT ME DOWN, YOU BASTARD!" Romano shrieked while Spain contently carried his beloved down the hallway. Romano formed his hands into fists and he started to beat them against Spain's chest. "PUT ME DOWN, I SAY! DAMN IT! LET ME GO-Ooooommm!" Suddenly, Romano's protests were stifled with a passionate kiss. His swinging arms trembled from Spain's invasive tongue and they went limp and they lifelessly swung from side to side. As they finally got to their bedroom, Spain lovingly laid Romano onto the king-sized bed and he mounted on top of him. "Now…where were we?" he uttered and he kissed his beloved's forehead.

Romano shyly smirked up at Spain and a small chuckle escaped from him. "Ay, Antonio…" he fondly said and he allowed his partner to proceed. As Spain kissed all over Romano's blushing face, Romano reached for his left hand. Once he clasped Spain's hand in his own, he brought it to his lips and he kissed the antiqued Roman ring that he wore on his ring finger.

_"Ti amo,"_ Romano devotedly whispered.

_"Te quiero,"_ Spain responded with love and their lips pressed together.

* * *

**Late Saturday Night**

Spain sat upright in his bed in the moonlit bedroom. He was intently texting with Germany on his cellphone. Meanwhile, Romano was slumbering next to him with a small smile curled on his face. From time to time, Spain looked to his left side to watch Romano sleeping soundly. It amused him to see that his Erogenous Zone curl was remaining heart-shaped for such a long time. It pleased him to know that he was able to satisfy his lover. Suddenly, his cellphone vibrated and he received a text message from Germany. He focused his gaze to its screen and he read what it said on it.

* * *

If you happen to be up while Romano is getting ready, don't act conspicuous! Just be yourself!

* * *

Spain looked at the word _conspicuous_ and pondered what it meant. Instead of asking Germany its definition he decided to text a brief response to his dire request.

* * *

K.

* * *

Immediately, Germany texted him back.

* * *

You do know what that word means, don't you?

* * *

_'Shit! He's onto me!'_ Spain panicked in his head. Instead of admitting that he did not understand the word, he texted back a lie that he did.

* * *

Of course i do! :3

* * *

After a brief pause, Germany sent his final text.

* * *

Fine. Guten Nacht. See you tomorrow.

* * *

Spain sent his final text to his friend and he closed their conversation.

* * *

Adios! ^_~

* * *

Spain was about to turn off his cellphone and call it a night, but he was bothered by that fancy word that Germany had to use. He went on Google to search the definition to the word _conspicuous. 'Hmm…it's an adjective…and it means to stand out or to be clearly visible…' _Spain thought to himself. He then recalled Germany's advice to him in his memory.

_'Don't be conspicuous…just be myself… don't be conspicuous…just be myself…wait a minute…how will I know that I'm being myself?!'_ Spain irrationally panicked. He looked over to Romano's side and a sense of dread shot throughout his body. _'He'll pick up from me that I'm up to something…I can't blow it tomorrow! Just remember to be myself…like I am right now…I am being myself right now, aren't I? – '_

"Mmmph…Tony…what are you doing?" Romano tiredly mumbled as he opened one eye to look at him.

Spain flinched with nerves and he expressed a forced giggle. "Oh, nothing! J-Just surfing the web on my phone! N-Nothing _conspicuous_ about that! Eh-heh!"

"Mmm, finish what you're doing and fall asleep…your phone is too…too…bright…Zzz…" Romano mumbled and he slowly succumbed into unconsciousness again. Spain immediately turned off his phone and he set it onto his nightstand. He gawked at his beloved with uncertainty as he worried that he will blow his cover in the morning.

_'I just gotta be myself…don't be conspicuous…yeah, that's it…I can pull this off!'_ he obsessively repeated in his head until he finally fell asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

Author's Note: I can't describe what I'm feeling right now with the feedback and the hits I've gotten for Alla Famiglia. Thank you so much for the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate the love that my story has received from you guys!

I'd like to give a shoutout to my friend Amanda; She's currently drawing _fanart_ for Alla Famiglia! I'll be using her art as the cover for my story soon! Thank you so much, dude! XD

Thank you again, everybody! Onward to Chapter 9!

* * *

Sunday 7/28

Romano delicately slipped a single yellow rose into the front pocket of his black suit jacket. He admired his reflection on the mirror and took notice of any imperfections in his appearance that need to be fixed. He tugged his black tie and he straightened the collar of his white dress shirt. He then picked up his comb and he carefully combed his hair. Once he was satisfied, he turned off one of the two bedroom lights. He turned around and looked toward the king sized bed. He quietly walked up to left side of the bed. Once he stood over the bed, he lovingly doted at the sleeping figure that was Spain covered over with the blanket. He carefully grabbed the end of the blanket and he slowly peeled it away. As he did this, he closed his eyes and he leaned forward to kiss his beloved's eyelids, just like he has always done every Sunday morning.

His puckered lips pressed down and kissed onto an unfamiliar surface. Romano slightly opened his eyes to peek at what it was he was kissing. His lips were planted onto Spain's pillow. Romano's eyes opened up and he fidgeted. "T-The fuck?!" he hissed to himself and he stood up straight. He then violently yanked the blanket off of the bed and he gawked with shock to see that the nation was not sleeping in bed. Romano panicked and he irrationally searched for Spain's presence on the mattress.

"Where is he?!" he desperately cried out. He backed away from the messed up bed and he hurried out of the bedroom. He rushed through the hallway and he quickly peeked into each room to see if Spain was inside one of them. "Antonio?! –slam!– A-Antonio?! –slam!– Tony?! –slam!– Tony?! Where the _fuck_ are you?! –slam!– "

After every room was searched and there was no sign of Spain, Romano proceeded to head to the staircase and he rushed down the stairs. Once at the bottom level of the Spanish mansion, Romano scurried into the living room. As he entered the living room, his nose suddenly picked up the aroma of freshly cooked food coming forth behind a door that led inside the kitchen. Timidly, Romano walked over to the door and he slowly pushed it open.

"¡BUENOS DÍAS, LOVINITO!" Spain happily shouted when he noticed Romano stepping inside the kitchen. He was dressed in his pajamas with a white apron draped over himself and he wore a tall chef's hat on his head. His hands were in possession of a glass bowl filled with beaten eggs and a whisk and he vigorously whisked the contents inside the bowl. The entire kitchen marble counter was crowded with various home cooked meals and the stove was dangerously overloaded with many pans with different kinds of food sizzling on its surface.

Romano nervously stood inside the kitchen in total disbelief by what was unfolding in front of him. "Y-Y-You're awake!" he stammered.

"Of course I'm awake, silly! It's morning! Rise and shine! There's nothing _conspicuous_ about this! Not at all! " Spain ecstatically answered. Then, he suddenly placed the glass bowl and whisk onto the kitchen table and he walked up to Romano. He desperately embraced him in his arms and he slowly swayed to and fro while he stroked the backside of the nation's dark hair. _"Oh my God…I love you so much…"_ Spain said in a very deep, romantic tone. Then, he pulled Romano away from himself and his mood suddenly changed to becoming gleeful again. "I made breakfast!" he squealed.

"W-What in…the fuck!" Romano mumbled with fear and his left eye began twitching from nerves. Spain rushed over to the kitchen table and he pulled out a chair. "Have a seat, cariño!" he insisted.

"N-No! I-I don't want to!" Romano cried and he slowly backed away and tried to leave the kitchen, but Spain rushed by his side and he led him by the hand to the chair. "Here we go, Lovi!" he said as he positioned Romano in front of the chair and he manually pushed him by his shoulders to sit on it. He then scooted the seat forward and he darted to the kitchen counter to gather up the plates of food.

"W-Why did you make so much fucking food?!" Romano angrily cried as he gawked at his partner struggle to carry multiple plates.

"Eh-heh! I wasn't sure what you'd be in the mood to eat! So I made _one of everything!_" Spain answered as he balanced a plate of food on top of his starched chef hat. Once he was able to balance three plates of food on both arms, he eagerly grinned to his beloved and he proudly stood across from the kitchen table. "Hey! I just thought of something!" he suddenly cried and he walked a few steps forward and then paused. "You know what this reminds me of? Okay, listen to this! It's brilliant! _You're Belle!_ _I'm_ _Lumière! _You know, from Beauty and the Beast! _You're my guest! Hehehe!"_

Romano started to hyperventilate and he terrifyingly gawked at Spain as he had begun to slowly rotate in a circle and then dance forward to his direction. The nation enthusiastically began to sing an altered rendition of the song _Be Our Guest_ out loud and he danced forward while balancing the dishes on his arms and head. "Be_ my_ guest! Be _my_ guest! Put _my_ service to the test! Yadda-yadda! Yadda-yadda! Yadda-yad – Bon Appétit!" Then, Spain threw the dishes onto the kitchen table. He had expected the dishes to have a smooth landing and slide down toward Romano's end of the table. Instead, the ceramic plates plopped and shattered onto the table and food splattered all over Romano's face.

"CHHHHIIIGGGGGIIIII!" Romano shrieked. He physically shook with rage and he grabbed his tablecloth napkin off the table. He furiously wringed the napkin with both hands and he grimaced at Spain. "WHAT THE HELL, MAN!" he screamed.

Spain innocently stared at Romano's direction and he scratched his head. "Hmm…I don't understand! I've seen this work before in the movies! Oh well!" He then reached above his head and he brought down the plate of food off of his hat and he lovingly placed in front of Romano. He then he grabbed the tablecloth napkin out of his hands. He massaged the napkin onto Romano's face and he smeared off the food. "There we go, baby!" he said.

"MMPPH! S-STOP IT!" Romano bellowed. Spain brought the napkin away from his face and he leaned in and kissed him on the lips. "You taste so muy delicioso!" he tenderly remarked.

"I-I do not!"

"Here, let me help you with your suit – "

"Oh, no you don't! Give me that!" Romano hissed and he yanked his napkin out of Spain's hands. He rubbed the speckled food off of his suit jacket and by some miracle everything came off without staining the fabric. Meanwhile, Spain rushed over to the kitchen marble counter and he gathered up the rest of the prepared dishes. Romano tensed up as he was expecting the nation to make a second attempt at his ludicrous dancing. Instead, Spain carefully placed the warm plates onto the table in three rows.

"Look, mi amor! I've made all of your favorite dishes!" Spain happily said and he gestured with his hands to them as if he were presenting a fantastic prize for a game show. Romano's grimace and frown slowly diminished as his stare transfixed at the pornographic display of delicious entrees.

"E-Everything looks wonderful!" Romano exclaimed and his stomach suddenly began to grumble in protest. He was _very_ hungry. Suddenly, Spain picked up a plate and he excitedly held it out to the nation. "Look here! Huevos Rancheros! Mmmmm!"

"A-Antonio – " Romano tried to speak, but he was interrupted by Spain again as he held up a different plate of food. "Chorizo and egg burritos – extra spicy! Yummers!"

"A-Ant – "

"Croissants drizzled with dark chocolate!"

"Tony – "

"Tomato basil battered waffles smothered in maple syrup!"

Suddenly, Romano gasped and he joyously grinned at the waffles and he picked up his fork and knife. Spain scooted the previous plate aside and he set the waffles in front of his beloved. Romano started to carve out a piece of waffle to consume until his hands suddenly stopped moving. He closed his eyes and sighed with defeat and he placed his utensils down. "Antonio…I-I can't eat any of this!" he cried.

"You can't?!" Spain asked with astonishment.

"No, I can't!" Romano pouted.

"Not even a tiny morsel?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

Romano fidgeted in his seat from Spain's clueless question and he stared at him with annoyance. "You should know!" he insisted. Spain scratched his head as he thought about what it was that prevented Romano from eating his fabulous breakfast. "Hmm…oh, of course!" Spain exclaimed and he quickly slapped his hand to his forehead. "I get it! You're trying to lose weight!"

"CHIGI! _I'M NOT FAT!_ AND THAT'S NOT THE REASON, YOU JERK!" Romano shouted and he pounded his fists onto the table.

"Oh! Then what is it?" Spain innocently asked.

"_I'm_ _fasting!_ I can't eat or drink _anything _until after I've taken Holy Communion! How could you forget this?! You're Catholic, too!"

"Oh yeah…" Spain slowly uttered. Then, he expressed a smirk on his face and he shook his head. "Screw that! Lets eat!" he happily insisted.

Romano glared at his partner and he made the Sign of the Cross. "I'll be praying for your soul, bastard! Shame on you!" he coldly remarked.

"PFFT! Whatever!" Spain expressed and he reached over to pinch Romano's cheeks. "You're so cute with your devoutness!"

"Mmmph! I-I am not! Stop that!" Romano protested.

"Well, if you're not going to eat my food, then at least give me a kiss! C'mon, kiss the cook! Kiss the cook!" Spain playfully teased and he released his gentle grip onto Romano's cheeks.

"No way! You're up to something!" Romano cried and he leaned back from Spain's puckering lips. Spain ceased his attempt to kiss him and he pouted. "Aww! C'mon, tomate! Kiss me! I'm not being_ conspicuous_ in any way!"

Romano raised an eyebrow to him and he suspiciously glared at him. "Why do you keep saying that word? You just learned about it, didn't you?"

"Knowledge is power, baby!" Spain gleefully answered and he stepped over to the posterior end of Romano's chair. He lovingly leaned forward and he hugged his beloved from behind. "Kiss me! Kiss me, hermoso!" (handsome!)

Romano could not help but crack up and laugh from Spain's persistence. He clasped his hands over Spain's own hands and he tenderly kissed his knuckles. Spain giggled and he kissed the top of Romano's head. "Don't kiss me there!" Spain insisted and he pulled his right arm away from Romano and he tapped his index finger onto his own lips. "Kiss me here! Right here!"

Romano looked upward and he grinned at Spain. He shyly looked away and he closed his eyes. At this moment, Spain quickly reached over to the table and he grabbed a piece of bacon from a broken plate. He stuck the bacon into his own mouth and he concealed it behind his teeth. When Romano looked back up and he opened his eyes, Spain grinned down to him without any evidence of food being inside his mouth.

"Thank you for thinking of me this morning…you're so wonderful…" Romano devotedly said and he arched up in his seat and planted his lips onto Spain's. After a few seconds of pure exchange of kissing, Spain petted his right hand onto Romano's face. Then, he suddenly pinched his thumb and fingers onto his cheeks and forced his jaw to open up. He then slipped the piece of bacon from within his mouth into Romano's mouth and he closed his jaw.

"MMPPPHH!" Romano angrily expressed and he tried to stand up in his chair, but Spain refused to release him from his embrace. He spit out the bacon and he growled with rage. "OHHHH! YOU BASTARD! I TOLD YOU I CAN'T EAT ANY- MMMMPPPPPH!" Suddenly, Spain stuck a burrito into his mouth. Romano violently fidgeted in his chair as he tried to get out of his partner's clutches. Spain started to light-heartedly laugh out loud and he kissed Romano's temple.

Romano spat out the burrito onto the floor and he forcefully made his chair jump in place with his body. "LET – ME – GO!" he shouted after each jump. Spain grinned at him and he released his grip on Romano at the precise moment he jumped his seat. Suddenly, the chair lost its balance and Romano fell backwards onto the floor. "AHHHH!" he pathetically shouted.

"Aww, Lovi! Are you all right?" he struggled to ask while he laughed and he knelt down to help Romano up. Romano immediately pushed him away and he got himself up. "Fuck this shit! I'm leaving! I have to pick up my brother!" he cried and he headed to the kitchen door.

"I thought Veneziano was picking _you_ up today!" Spain lovingly teased and Romano froze in front of the kitchen door and he trembled with nerves. _"Oh God! Oh God, No!"_ he dreadfully uttered and he rested his hands onto the doorframe and clenched his eyes shut. Spain was right – it was his brother's turn to pick him up this Sunday. He was trapped.

Spain sneaked up behind Romano and he held a fork in his right hand that contained a thick, warm slice of tomato basil battered waffle. He embraced Romano from behind and he held up the fork in front of his face. "Open wide!" he said.

Reluctantly, Romano surrendered to his partner's will and he consumed the waffle slice off of the fork. Suddenly, his brown eyes rolled in the back of his head and he shuddered by the awesome taste of the waffle. He expressed orgasmic moaning and he leaned back against Spain's chest. He was in ecstasy. His trembling subsided and he physically relaxed as he chewed his food.

"Now that's what I'm talking about!" Spain lustfully said and he kissed Romano's maple syrup coated lips. Romano finally swallowed the food down his throat and he smiled up to Spain.

"How did it taste?" Spain softly asked.

"Magnifico!" Romano declared and he kissed his own fingertips and hand gestured an A-OK sign.

"Come back to the table, mi amor, and eat your bountiful feast! I've made it especially for you," Spain insisted and he kissed Romano's nose.

"I-I might as well," Romano said and he shrugged his shoulders, "I can't take Communion now. I'll have to go to Confession next weekend – "

"You were going to go to Confession _anyway_, whether or not you had eaten that slice of waffle. You're so hard on yourself, baby, when deep down you have no reason to be. You're perfect in my eyes, Lovi."

Romano blushed from Spain's kind words. He broke from the nation's embrace and he slowly walked over to his chair. As he did so, he gently gripped onto Spain's hand and he led him to where he would be sitting. "I can't possibly eat all this food by myself…will you care to join me?" he warmly suggested.

Spain grinned to his beloved and both nations made eye contact. "With pleasure, kind Sir!" he exclaimed and he playfully bowed to him. Then, he proceeded to follow Romano to the table.

* * *

Italy's royal blue Lamborghini pulled up the driveway to the Spanish villa. The nation parked adjacent to the front door and he turned off the engine. As he stepped out of the car and closed door, Italy looked at his reflection from the vehicle's window and he straightened out his mint green collar shirt, green and black striped tie and chocolate brown suit jacket. He looked down to tug on his chocolate brown pants. Once he was satisfied with his appearance, he smiled at his reflection and he proceeded to walk up to the front door to the mansion.

He knocked on the door and waited for his older brother to greet him. After a minute had passed, Italy stepped back and looked up to Romano's bedroom window. "Well, he's up…his bedroom light is still on," Italy said to himself. He stepped forward and he reached inside his pant pocket to pull out his keys. He used the spare house key that Romano had given him to unlock the front door and once he did so, Italy quietly stepped inside.

_"Roma! It's me, Veneziano! I'm here!"_ Italy said in a hushed tone. He did not want to shout out of respect for Spain whom he thought was still sleeping upstairs. As he walked into the living room, he suddenly could hear two deep toned voices giggling and conversing with one another behind the kitchen door. Italy curiously stepped over to the door and he cautiously peeked inside. His brown eyes widened as he witnessed Romano sitting on Spain's lap. Both nations were lovingly doting to each other and they fed one another a portion of their breakfast.

_"Veeeeee~!"_ Italy whispered and he smiled. He has _rarely_ ever seen his brother being intimate with big brother Spain. Romano has always heavily guarded his privacy from others in regards to his relationship with Spain. Italy was watching a rare side to Romano: he was genuinely happy and untroubled. More importantly, he was infatuated with Spain. It was so obviously noticeable at how much they loved each other. Being the hopeless romantic that he was, Italy deeply sighed and his smile increased into a radiant grin. He silently continued to watch them interacting with one another.

"I'm sorry about the mess I caused," Spain said after he swallowed his food. Romano smirked at him and he held up the half eaten burrito close to Spain's lips. "No worries," he uttered, "at least you didn't use the antique china. Then I would have been pissed!"

"Oh, I'm aware of this!" Spain exclaimed and he took a bite of the burrito. He then grabbed the plate that contained the tomato basil battered waffle and he cut a portion of it off with his fork and stabbed it. He brought it up to Romano's lips and the nation inserted the tasty morsel into his mouth. Both men nomed on their food and smiled to one another with their mouths closed.

Finally, Spain swallowed his food and he spoke. "You must be sick and tired of my buffoonery. I always tend to do something stupid like…well, this," he said with slight remorse in his tone and he pointed to the mess on the table. He repeated the exact words that Germany had said to him during his angry outburst at him last week.

Romano swallowed his food and he placed the half eaten burrito onto the table and he began to tenderly stroke Spain's dark wavy tresses. "I'll admit…it does get on my nerves sometimes…but I never tire having you behave this way," he said in a heartfelt tone.

"R-Really?"

"Si…your silliness is very attractive to me, tesoro. I can't imagine you behaving any other way! When you're goofing off, you remind me to not take life so seriously. It what makes me love you. You always bring so much joy in my life, Antonio."

"You make me feel joyous, too, Lovi!" Spain happily said and he wrapped both his arms around Romano's waist. "Just your presence alone makes my heart flutter! You know…after all these years we've been together, I still get butterflies in my stomach when I wake up in the morning and I see you lying asleep next to me in bed. I still can't believe that you're _mine. _You're a blessing to me, mi corazón…"

"Ay, Antonio…" Romano uttered as his eyes watered with tears.

"I love it when we dance together! And I love it when you sing to me! Remember how we used to go to the opera together all the time?"

"Of course I do! Those are wonderful memories! We should do it more often!"

"Si…we should. You know…even the little things you do that most people would overlook make me happy!"

"Like what?"

"Well, like when you eat in bed and leave crumbs in the sheets! Or how you squeeze the toothpaste tube in the middle instead of the bottom like you're supposed to…or when your hair clogs the bathtub drain – "

"Hey! Your hair clogs it, too, you bastard!" Romano insisted and he chuckled. As he did this, a single tear escaped from his left eye and it slowly ran down his cheek.

_"Aww, Lovinito…"_ Spain tenderly whispered and he leaned closely to Romano's face and he kissed his tear off of his cheek. Then, both nations rested their foreheads against one another and they closed their eyes and smiled.

_"Te quiero mucho…"_

_ "Ti amo, anche…"_

Meanwhile, Italy's eyes were overflowing with tears. He sniffled quietly and he wiped away his tears. As he was wiping his face, he glanced at his watch and noticed the time. It was cutting too close for him to leave for Mass. He decided to announce himself to his brother and Spain by pretending to re-enter the house again. Italy quietly tip-toed to the front door that he left ajar and he purposely slammed it shut. "I-I'M HERE, FRATELLO!" Italy forcefully shouted.

Suddenly, he could hear a rustling sound inside the kitchen. When he walked up to the kitchen door and he pushed it open, he stared at Spain and Romano who were now sitting in two separate chairs. Romano swallowed his tears and he grinned at his brother. "Buongiorno!" he happily exclaimed and he stood up from his chair and he embraced Italy. Both nations platonically kissed each other's cheeks and lips and they smiled at one another.

"¡Buenos Días!" Spain said and Italy broke his embrace with Romano so he could greet the nation. Both Spain and Italy platonically kissed each other's cheeks and lips. Then, Italy looked at the table and he started to giggle. "W-What happened in here?!" he cried.

"Eh, I'll explain everything to you on the way to Mass!" Romano said and he laughed.

"I…I'm sorry for being late! I was delayed!"

"That's all right, fratello."

"Well, we better get going now!" Italy said. Then, all three men walked together out of the kitchen. When they got to the front door, Spain opened it and let the Italy brothers walk before him. As Italy walked to the driver's side of his vehicle, Spain rushed to the passenger's side and he opened the door for Romano. His beloved took notice of his chivalry and he thanked him. When Romano sat down in his seat and fastened his seat belt, Spain closed the car door and he reached over to grasp Romano's left hand.

"You have a wonderful day," he said and he kissed Romano's Spanish crested gold ring. Romano blushed and he returned the gesture by reaching for Spain's left hand and kissing the Roman cornelian gold ring that he wore. He then released his hold of his partner's hand and he smiled.

"Take care, you two! Enjoy yourselves!" Spain said.

"Thanks!" Italy gleefully said and he turned on the engine. Romano did not say another word. He did not have to, for his eyes spoke on his behalf. They glistened with love and devotion to Spain. It was enough for Spain's heart to palpitate in his chest. He knew exactly how to interpret his penetrating stare.

_'Goodbye, my love…my friend…my darling __husband.__'_

Spain stood outside and watched the Italy brothers drive off his property and onto the road that would lead them to their destination. Once they were no longer able to be visibly seen, Spain sighed and he looked at his ring. He smiled at the engraved image of Grandpa Rome's profile on the crimson cornelian. He recalled that special day when both he and Romano secretly exchanged vows of devotion to one another at a time when it was blasphemous for them to do so. He was so proud to wear his beloved's ring, just like Romano was proud to wear his.

"Well…I better get ready and head over to Germany's place!" he said to himself and he walked inside the mansion and closed the door.

* * *

Author's note: Short chapter is short. I was going to make it longer and include the rest of the day's events. But then I felt that stopping here was the best thing to do. Chapter 10 will be a continuation of Chapter 9. For now, please enjoy the feels… :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Author's Note: I'm so sorry that I've been tardy with my updating. I've been so busy. Plus, this chapter required _a lot_ of research for some backstory. But it's finally finished. Thank you for your patience!

**SHOUT OUTS**

First, I need to give a shout out to my dear friend, Amanda again because she is currently drawing fan art for Alla Famiglia! It will be the cover of my story! I've tried typing in the URL to her DeviantArt account, but for some reason it disappears when I publish a chapter. So please, dear reader, take the time to go on DeviantArt and look for NobodyStudios. Check out the_ fantastic_ projects that she and her husband work on together! Thank you so much, dude! You're the best! :3

Second, I need to give a shout out to one of my loyal readers AnimeGirl9894 because her story _South Italy, Not Romano_ was a great influence for my writing Chapter 10. Thank you so much! Please check out her wonderful story on her account!

There's going to be two more author's notes in this chapter because there will be certain things that I'll need to explain to the reader. The final author's note is really tl;dr but it's vitally important that the reader takes the time to look over it and read the information. Otherwise, this chapter will not make any sense at all if it's skipped over.

Thank you! ONWARD TO CHAPTER 10!

* * *

Germany hurriedly opened multiple cans of dog and cat food and dished the contents into many different types of bowls. He then settled them onto the kitchen floor in front of the household pets who were intently watching him. "There…I think that's enough," he said and he crossed his arms.

The animals gawked at all the food that was served before them. Germany sighed with annoyance and he unfolded his arms. "What?! I'm just making sure that you have enough to eat all day!"

The animals looked up to him and gave him a dirty look in unison. They still disapproved over their "father's" behavior of spying behind Papá Italy and Zio Romano's backs. Germany grumbled to the animals and he started to gather up the empty cans of pet food. As he completed his task of disposing the cans into the trash, he received a knock on the front door. "Ah, that must be Spain!" he exclaimed and he rushed over to the front door. Once he was at the door, he quickly opened and greeted his comrade. "Guten Tag, Spain!" he said.

"¡Buenos Días, _partner in crime!"_ Spain happily said and he abruptly grabbed Germany by the shoulders and he greeted him by passionately kissing both his cheeks and onto his lips. Germany flinched by this sudden invasive embrace and he frowned. "N-Never do that to me again!" he insisted.

"PFFFT! Whatever! You're so uptight, man!"

"Well, we better get going – what the _hell_ are you wearing?!" Germany suddenly cried as he realized that Spain was dressed up in gaudy summer attire – flip flops, khaki shorts, a red Hawaiian shirt with white flowers printed onto it, stylish designer sunglasses and a straw fedora hat.

"These are my summer clothes!" Spain happily exclaimed, "It's going to be humid today and I want to be comfortable! Plus, don't I look like a really awesome 60's undercover spy like in one of those old American TV programs?!"

"You look American all right…you look like a _tourist!"_

"HEY! So much hate! I don't look anything like they do! I don't have a fanny pack around my waist!"

"HA! That's true!" Germany smiled and he cracked up laughing. He then stepped outside and he locked the front door. While he was doing this, Spain looked at what his friend was wearing and he shook his head with disapproval. "Do you _really_ want to wear _this?!_ You look so…_smothered!"_

Germany looked down to himself and he examined his attire – he was wearing his usual boots, black denim pants, and a plain long sleeved shirt _tucked in._ Germany sighed and he glared at Spain. "I look fine," he insisted.

"Dude, it's July! You're going to have a heat stroke while we pursue Italy and Romano! Don't you have anything else to wear?"

"Uh…ja, I do. I have some shorts I could slip on – "

"TA-DAAAA!" Spain suddenly expressed and he randomly held out a wrapped present for the nation. Germany was taken aback by this abrupt gesture and he cautiously took the gift out of Spain's hands. "W-What is this?"

"It's a present, silly! Open it! Open it!" Spain cried.

Germany simply nodded to the nation and he ripped the wrapping paper open. He violently flinched when he realized that he had unwrapped a folded blue Hawaiian shirt with white flowers printed onto the fabric and a straw fedora hat.

"Uh…I…hmm…"

"Do you like them?!"

"Uh – "

"PFFFT! What am I saying?! _Of course you like them!"_ Spain happily answered his own question and he giggled. He then wrapped his arm around Germany's back and he motioned him to the front door. "Now go back inside and change your clothes! You'll be more comfortable in these!"

"I…I," Germany staggered. He wanted to do anything else but to change his clothes. But he did not have the heart to decline Spain's present and to hurt his feelings. So, with reluctance, he unlocked the front door and he walked inside the house. He slowly went up the stairs and once he was at the upper level, he went down the hallway toward his bedroom. Spain stepped inside the house and he excitedly stood in front of the staircase. All the household pets left the kitchen and they walked up toward Spain. Once they were by his side, Spain grinned to them and he waved.

"Hey, you guys!" he greeted. The animals sat themselves in front of the staircase and they acknowledged the nation with a critical stare. Spain gestured his hand to them and he scoffed. "Oh, don't give me that look! We're not doing anything terrible today! Believe me, we're all going to look back on this and – ERMAHGERD!" Spain ecstatically shouted as he saw Germany sulking at the top of the staircase. He was dressed in his flip flops, khaki colored shorts, blue Hawaiian shirt with his sunglasses clipped to the front pocket and the straw fedora hat adorning his head.

Germany growled with annoyance and his pale face turned crimson from embarrassment. He sighed and he slowly began to descend down the stairs. Suddenly, Aster, Berlitz and Blackie rolled to their sides on the floor and interjected what sounded like laughter. Germouser arched an eyebrow to Germany and shook his little head with disapproval. Gino, however, happily mewed and awed at how wonderful his "father" looked.

Once he was at the bottom of the steps, he stood still while Spain and the rest of the animals were fussing over his appearance. "You look SO AWESOME! What cuteness! Oh, man! I'm so glad we did this!" Spain cried with giddiness.

Germany frowned at his dogs who were continuing to laugh and beat their paws against the wooden floor. He reached into his shirt pocket and he retrieved his sunglasses. He slipped them onto his face and he carefully stepped over the dogs' bodies in order to get to the front door. "Lets get this over with!" he hissed. Suddenly, Spain rushed up to be by his side and he linked his right arm to Germany's left arm.

"Time to hit the road…_spy buddy!_" he lovingly said and he smiled at him and he bit down onto his bottom lip. Germany grimaced angrily and brought his arm back to his own side. Spain waved goodbye to the household pets and he ran outside toward Germany's vehicle. Germany glared to his pets once last time and he slammed the front door shut.

* * *

The Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen sped down the freeway; the nations had just crossed over the Austrian boarder and they would soon be arriving to the Italian boarder. According to Siri on Germany's iPhone, the program pinpointed the Italy Brothers being located in the landlocked region of Umbria in Central Italy. Their final destination would be the city of Perugia. While Germany was focusing his attention on the flowing traffic, Spain was dancing in his seat while he played numerous of his favorite songs on his smartphone playlist. He had it connected to Germany's radio so it could be blasted onto the custom speakers. His playlist consisted of many types of Spanish songs from his own country and from many Latin American countries. At the moment, he was blasting the addictive Colombian reggaeton song _Cumbia Sobre El Rio_ by _Celso Pińa._

"OOOHH YEAH! CUUUMBIA! OH! OH! OH!" Spain interjected as he seductively danced to the Latin percussion of the song. Germany angrily gripped onto his steering wheel and he gritted his teeth. He was getting sick of listening to Spain's music. He had tolerated listening to his choice of songs for the last hour. He briefly turned his gaze to the partying nation and he yelled to him. "HEY! SUPPOSE I COULD TAKE OVER THE MUSIC FOR A WHILE?!"

"WHAT?!"

"I SAID TURN OFF YOUR MUSIC! I WANT TO PLAY MY OWN SONGS NOW!"

"WHAAAAAAAAT?!"

"GOTT VERDAMNT! I SAID TURN THAT – !"

"HOLD ON, LUDWIG! I CAN'T HEAR A WORD YOUR SAYING!" Spain shouted and he turned down the volume of his music. "What did you say?"

"TURN THAT SHIT OFF!"

"Geez! Fine! No need to shout!" Spain stubbornly responded and he paused his music. He glared at the nation and he folded his arms. "I swear! You need to control your temper!"

"Here…hook my phone to your wire so I can play my songs," Germany said and he handed his smartphone to Spain. The nation obeyed, but with a great attitude and he unhooked his own phone. He hooked Germany's phone and he gave it back to him. Cautiously, looked at his playlist and he picked the song that he wanted to listen. He then focused his attention to the road again and he happily grinned as his choice of song began to play – _Blau Blüht Der Enzian_ by Heino.

Spain shuddered by the sound of the polka music and he jeered to Germany. "THE FUCK IS THIS?!" he yelled.

"It's Heino! He's a fantastic singer in my country! He sings many kinds of volksmüsik (folk music) – "

"He sucks! I-I can't bop my hips to this! This song is _totally unsexy!_"

"Oh, Gott! Shut up! I tolerated your songs! Now you can tolerate mine!"

Spain stubbornly folded his arms again and he grumbled. He _really_ did not like this type of music. Meanwhile, Germany was bopping his body from left to right to the beat of the song and he sang along with Heino.

_Ja, ja, so blau, blau, blau blüht der Enzian!_

_Wenn beim Alpenglühn wir uns wiedersehn_

_Mit ihren ro-ro-ro-roten Lippen fing es an,_

_Die ich nie vergessen kann!_

Rough Translation:

_Yes, yes, blue, blue, blue gentian flowers!_

_When we meet again in Alpenglühn_

_With its re-re-re-red lips, it began_

_Which I can never forget!_

A half an hour had passed and Germany was still in control of the music playing inside Gretchen. Spain covered his ears and he jerked his body back and fourth while he was being tortured by the polka music. Germany decided to viciously troll Spain by playing_ Bayernmädels_ by Die Twinnies in loop.

Germany happily hummed to the song and he bopped his body to the percussion of the song. Spain had finally reached his breaking point and he started to pathetically shriek. "ENOUGH! MAKE IT STOP! MAKE IT STTTTOOOOPPP!"

Germany turned down the volume to the music and he smirked at Spain. "Oh, you're ridiculous! It's not _that bad!"_

"Por favor…play something else, for God's sake! I can't take it anymore!"

"Fine, fine…let's see here…" Germany quickly glanced to his smartphone and he skimmed to find the perfect song to play. "I think I have some _David Hasselhoff_ songs on my playlist – "

"NOOOOOOO!" Spain screamed and his emerald eyes moistened with tears, "NOT DAVID HASSELHOFF! ANYTHING BUT _HIM!_"

* * *

**Author's Note:** Okay, I need to explain who David Hasselhoff is to my readers who may not know him. David Hasselhoff is a German-American actor. He's best known for his shows like Knight Rider and Baywatch. He's the guy who made a cameo in the SpongeBob SquarePants movie! He's currently a judge on Britian's Got Talent.

Back in the late 1980's, he began a singing career. He famously performed live at the Berlin Wall in 1989. His singing career in the USA was panned, but he developed a cult following in Germany and in German-speaking regions around the world. I don't know if he's still as popular in Germany today, but twenty-three years ago, this man was a GOD to the German people.

Go on YouTube and check out his songs. Also, search for "David Hasselhoff and the Freedom Tour 1990" to get an ideal at how his live performances were like.

Check out Heino's songs, too! He really is a great singer and I've been a fan for years. He has a very deep, masculine voice! If Germany sang karaoke, I'd imagine him sounding like Heino! :3

* * *

"Hey! Don't Hassel the Hoff!" Germany barked and he expressed a casual smile. "You do realize that Prussia and myself are _major fanboys_, right?"

"Oh, Dios Mio! _Still?!_ I thought that you two were _finally_ over that guy!" Spain horrifically cried.

"David Hasselhoff is a gem to the German people! We adore him! After all, it was he who brought down the Berlin Wall!"

"Wait a minute…I thought it was President Reagan who brought it down."

"Nein! It was the 'Hoff!"

"PFFFT! You're living in own little fantasy world!" Spain angrily hissed. Germany's index finger quickly danced upon his smartphone screen as he tried to find the _perfect _song to play. Finally, he was able to find the exact song he wanted to play. "Ah! Here it is!" he happily said.

"W-What are you going to play?" Spain asked in a trembling voice.

"A song, of course! A very good song!" Germany teased and his index finger was about to tap the screen to play the music until Spain suddenly whimpered to him.

"WAIT!" Spain cried, "It's not a Hasselhoff song, is it?!" He then leans closely to Germany's side and he glances over to look at the iPhone screen. It read on its surface _Looking For Freedom_ by _David Hasselhoff_, the exact song that he sang in front of the Berlin Wall in 1989. Spain's emerald eyes widened with horror and his lips began trembling. "N-No! No, please! Don't play this song!" he cried.

"Why not? It's my favorite!" Germany insisted and his index fingertip was about to tap the screen surface again, but it stopped halfway as Spain pleaded to him again. "No! Please!" Spain cried. Germany briefly looked away from the road and he stared at Spain's troubled face. Spain's horrific expression then changed into a grimace and he frowned at the nation. "LUDWIG! DON'T YOU _DARE_ PLAY THAT SONG!" he growled.

Germany expressed a smug look on his face and his thin lips formed an eager smile. Then, his index finger tapped the smartphone screen and the car speakers began to play the cheesy 80's pop song. Germany immediately turned up the volume full blast so that everyone around them could hear the song.

_I've been looking for freedom!_

_I've been looking so long!_

_I've been looking for freedom!_

_Still the search goes on!_

* * *

_I've been looking for freedom!_

_Since I left my hometown!_

_I've been looking for freedom!_

_Still it can't be found!_

"NOOOOOOOO!" Spain wailed in agony and he cupped his hands over his ears. Germany's smirk turned into a radiant grin and he started to sing along with David Hasselhoff. He then made his hands slap onto Gretchen's steering wheel as an attempt to perform a drum solo. Suddenly, the drivers who surrounded them on the freeway began to honk their vehicle horns for it seemed that they, too, were enjoying the song.

"LOOKING FOR FREEDOM, MAN! JAAAA!" one driver shouted out his window and Germany smiled to the driver and he randomly held up a fisted hand in the air in solidarity. "THAT'S RIGHT!" he shouted.

"S-STOP IT! STOP ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOUR!" Spain shrieked.

"Oh, Antonio! Calm down! You're so dramatic!" Germany poked.

Spain gawked to the nation and he asked him a question in a hushed tone. "You're doing this on purpose!"

"Doing what?!"

"Y-You're doing this to get back at me, aren't you?!"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"T-This is because of the shirt I gave you, isn't it?"

"What?! Nein! O-Oh, nein! Nein! I'm shocked by you're a-accusations! What ever gave you that idea?" Germany tried to say in a concerned tone, but he cracked up and started to laugh. Spain pouted at the nation and he brought his hands away from his ears so he could cross his arms. "Well, I see how it is! Damn you!" he cried.

"I-I'm sorry, Ant – "

"No, you're not!

Germany's facial expression briefly turned blank after Spain's statement. Then, he smiled again and he busted out laughing. "HAHA! You're right! I'm not!" he gleefully said.

"You can forget about receiving any Christmas presents from me this year!" Spain stubbornly uttered.

"Good! I'll be spared!" Germany happily teased. Spain mumbled angrily to himself and he glared at the car radio. After listening to a few minutes of David Hasselhof's music, Spain could not take any more of its outdated cheesiness. He unfolded his arms and he reached over and turned the volume dial off.

"Hey! I was listening to that!" Germany cried.

"Yeah, well…too bad," Spain mumbled childishly.

"Why do you have to mope like this?"

"Why do you think?! You dislike the shirt I gave you! Why bother wearing it when you obviously despise it!"

Germany expressed a heavy sigh and he briefly looked over to Spain's side. "I don't hate the shirt, Antonio. I'm quite fond of it, actually. Please don't be offended! I was only teasing you!"

"N-No, you weren't – "

"Ja, I was! The shirt is fine. I'm just not used to wearing such colorful clothing, that's all! It was a kind gesture to give it to me."

Spain shyly looked over to Germany and a tiny smile curled on his face. "What about the hat? Do you like it, too?" he asked in a hushed tone.

"Ja, it's a good hat. Dankeschön," Germany responded and then he turned his attention to the road again. Spain's smile increased and his moody behaviour disappeared. He unfolded his arms and he suddenly glomped onto Germany's left side. "I'm so glad that you like everything!" he happily exclaimed.

Germany stiffened by Spain's sudden embrace and he carefully pushed Spain slightly away from his body. "Okay, okay…that's enough…" he said with hesitance. Spain backed off and he sat in his seat. He was now filled with overwhelming joy. He leaned forward to turn up the volume to the vehicle's speakers and then he unhooked Germany's smartphone to the connective wire and he re-connected his own smartphone to it. He fiddled around with his smartphone as he tried to find different songs to play in the car.

"Oh, Gott, you're not going to play that samba music again, are you? It gets on my nerves!" Germany groaned.

Spain sighed with annoyance and he arched an eyebrow to his direction. "Well, what are we to do then? You don't like my music and I certainly can't stand yours! There's got to be a compromise between us somehow – " then, he suddenly gasped as his mind brainstormed a brilliant solution to their predicament. He quickly messed around with his smartphone and he retrieved some songs on the Internet to play in the car.

"Aha! I've got the _perfect_ musica to play that we'll _both_ enjoy!" Spain said and he pressed his index finger onto his smartphone screen and a track began to play. Germany was personally dreading what choice of music the nation had picked out. As the music began to play, however, Germany became quite confused by its melody and arrangement – it sounded very similar to German polka music. Then, the male singers began to harmonize together in what sounded like typical beer drinking melodies. But to Germany's astonishment, the men were singing in _Spanish!_

Germany quickly took his eyes off the road and he glanced over to Spain. "W-What kind of music is _this?!_" he asked in a perplexed tone.

"It's _Tejano!_" Spain answered gleefully and he bopped his body to the beat of the song.

"T-Tejano? What's Tejano?"

"It's Mexican-American music originating from Texas!"

Germany looked to Spain with utter confusion expressed on his face. Spain smiled at him while he was dancing in his seat. "Aww! You don't understand! How cute!"

"Erm, just please explain everything to me," Germany insisted as he looked back to the road and his face flushed with embarrassment.

"Okay, you see, back in the 1850's, many German immigrants settled in Nuevo España in parts that would eventually be annexed and become the state of Texas after the Mexican Revolution. Well, something extraordinary happened – the German immigrants assimilated with both the Spanish and Mexican population and some of them even intermarried! After many generations, a hybrid culture and society was created that is known as Tejano! Isn't that cool?"

"Ja! That's amazing! I wasn't aware of this!"

Spain gestured out his hands and he wiggled his fingers in an enchanting motion. _"The More You Know! Dun dun dun dun!"_ he teased in a dramatic, sing-song voice. Germany chuckled by Spain's absurd NBC PSA referencing and he nudged the nation with his left elbow. "Look at us! We're being so random!"

"How so?"

"How so?! We're driving to Italy in a bullet riddled military vehicle, dressed in matching Hawaiian shirts and hats and we're blasting Tejano music!"

Suddenly, both nations busted out laughing over their arbitrary situation. "S-So much for not trying to be conspicuous, eh?" Spain poked.

"That's for sure!" Germany responded and he chuckled even harder. At this moment, they had literally passed the Italian border and sped past the European Union sign welcoming them to the country. "We've finally arrived to Italy! Next stop – Perugia!"

"¡Muy bein! We're making good timing! I wonder why _our lovelies_ are down there today? Do you suppose that they go to different regions every Sunday?"

"Well, they were in Tuscany last week. Today, they're in Umbria. So I guess that they do randomly travel around. What I want to know is who they're seeing every Sunday. This so called 'family' they visit is so vague. I'm starting to wonder if they exist at all!"

"Hey…maybe there is a 'family' – a _crime_ family, if you know what I mean."

Germany quickly glanced over to Spain and his eyes questioned his statement with a piercing stare. Spain shrugged his shoulders and he smiled. "What?! I may be right, you know! I've seen one too many mafia films with Romano to understand the concept of the importance to 'family'."

"They're not affiliated with the mafia! Well, at least I know that Feli isn't. Romano on the other hand…well…_is he?_" Germany asked with caution.

"Well, umm…I don't know," Spain honestly answered.

"What do you mean _you don't know?_" Germany cried.

"Let me put it this way," Spain responded and his gleaming smile diminished, "There are some aspects about Romano that I _know better_ than to stick my nose in. It's none of my business. That culture is a part of him…and I have to respect that."

Germany shook his head in disbelief from Spain's statement. "You say this, and yet here we are driving ourselves to them so we could eavesdrop on them again! So much for respecting their privacy! Gott, I hope we don't run into trouble today like we did last week!"

"We won't, my friend! We're heading to Central Italy. The mafia exists solely in _Southern Italy._"

"Fine then. So what will we possibly do if we have to travel to Southern Italy next time? What if we have to go to Sardinia or even to Sicily?"

Spain bit down on his bottom lip and he contemplated the extreme situations they could be facing if – or when – they would have to travel down south. Finally, he parted his lips and he spoke. "W-We'll worry about that when the time comes," he solemnly responded.

Germany looked back to the road and he gulped. He was afraid that Spain would have an inconclusive and ominous answer his questioning.

* * *

The nations had finally arrived to Perugia in the landlocked region of Umbria. Perugia is best known for their wonderful chocolates. Both Spain and Germany took notice of the numerous sweets boutiques that were scattered throughout the vast city. The region Umbria itself is best known for another reason – it literally bordered itself in-between North Italy and South Italy. Therefore, Umbria had a very unique disposition of being the median platform to the rivalry between Northern Italians and Southern Italians.

* * *

**Author's Note:** It's true that there is a historical bitter relationship between Northern Italians and Southern Italians. I wouldn't say that every single Northerner and Southerner hate one another, but there _is_ a minority on both sides that hold fundamental and extreme radical beliefs against each other and they're not afraid to publically discuss it. The Internet is bombarded with numerous heated debates between North and South and it's extraordinary to observe it all. I accidently came across this and I decided to do some research on the topic. Thus, this is the theme of the chapter.

**North vs. South**

Some Northern Italians hold prejudices against Southern Italians because they have a poor agricultural background. The mafia presence in South Italy doesn't really help, either. So Southern Italians are seen by some Northern Italians as violent, stupid, lazy, poverty-stricken, and corrupt people.

South Italy itself is seen as a financial dead weight that is constantly in need of government assistance, especially with the global recession that is happening right now. There is a _very_ conservative right-wing party in North Italy called Lega Nord (North League) that holds political and racial prejudices against South Italy and foreigners in general. They've been petitioning for many years to have Northern and Central Italy secede (break away) from Southern Italy all together and become an entirely new country.

Some Northern Italians also see Southern Italians as being anything _but_ Italian because their racial background is very diverse. Some Northern Italians won't even _recognize_ Sicily as being a part of Italy because they think of its citizens as "too foreign." Sicily has their own unique history and their own language; thus they are seen as separate to Italy. Southern Italians _are_ Italian descent, but they're also a mixture of Spanish, Greek, Arab and African (Moorish) ancestry. So some Northern Italians who have the absurd belief of racial "purity" and white supremacy look upon Southern Italians as _racially inferior._

Off Topic, But Important To Know: This belief was very strong in the United States when Southern Italians began immigrating to the country in the 1880's. Southern Italians were seen as so foreign and so different from the general American population (WASP – White Anglo-Saxon Protestant) that this became a major threat to "White Purity." Southern Italians arriving to the United States with optimism of a better future for themselves were faced with even harsher racism and lesser opportunities than what they had to deal with back home. Southern Italians were not seen as "White" or "European" at this time. They were seen as "colored." Even the palest Southern Italian could not "pass" for white. If a Southern Italian person decided to settle in the Southern United States, they were objected to follow the Jim Crow Laws of segregation or face the consequences. There is evidence that Southern Italians had been lynched in the Deep South. (There are _photographed postcards_ of the victims.)

There is a distinct difference in appearances between Northern Italians and Southern Italians – Northern Italians are more of a pale complexion and they may have a variety of hair color and eye color. Southern Italians may exhibit these features, too. But some of the population may also have an olive complexion or even very dark skin. They may also have dark brown or black hair and dark brown or black eyes. Some may even have overly curly hair that may resemble African hair texture. Because of their diversity in appearance, they've historically faced a backlash.

There are derogatory slang words against Southern Italians in Italy – _Terrone,_ which means "Southerner" and _Guinea, _which is a terrible word that is equivalent to the N-Word.

**South vs. North**

Some Southern Italians hold prejudices or contempt against Northern Italians because they see them as being extremely snobbish and proud of their wealth. They may have resentment to the North for their industrial successes that South Italy has always lacked. They especially dislike Northern Italians because of the prejudices they hold against them.

Northern Italy is sort of becoming secular today unlike Southern Italy; they have continually held on to their traditional values. Some Southern Italians look at the Northern Italian population as racially different as well. Northern Italians _are_ Italian descent, but they are also a mixture of both Germanic and Nordic ancestry.

The derogatory slang word against Northern Italians is _Polentone_. The word is derived from the word _Polenta;_ Polenta is a traditional peasant Northern Italian meal that consists of grounded yellow maize (cornmeal). Northern Italians are called Polentone by some Southern Italians as a reminder to them of their once poor background and that poverty _does_ exist in the North, too.

The concept of the mafia has been around since the ninth century. The word _Mafia_ is derived from the Arabic word _Mu'afa_, which means "protection." Under the rule of Islamic Moorish empire, the Spanish Empire and later the Unification of the Two Italies in 1861, Southern Italians had to pay ridiculously high taxes. Southern Italians were also ostracized for centuries. The mafia's main goal was to protect and avenge their families and their people against the injustices they faced from their ever-changing government. The mafia was of a great importance to South Italy because they were able to assist and protect poverty-stricken citizens and citizens who owned businesses. They helped them to get ahead in life at a time when their enemies wanted to see them continually fail.

When things became too hellish for Southern Italians to endure (prejudice, taxes and famine), millions of them made a mass exodus to the United States in the 1880's, bringing their culture, their traditions, their religion and the Mafia code of honor with them. Decades later, many mafia families fled Southern Italy to the United States when Benito Mussolini took power in the 1920's. He was against their organizations and he intended on crushing their power. The image of the mafia drastically changed in the United States that we're more familiar with today. Now they are remembered as being organizers of gambling and prostitution rings, bootleggers, drug traffickers and professional hit men. With the changing times of that era, the mafia evolved and supplied what was demanded. It was a survival tactic that was successful, but forever emulated a negative image of Southern Italians and Sicilians in general.

Okay, I'm done explaining the bad blood between Northern Italians and Southern Italians. I apologize for the long explanation, but it had to be done. Like I stated before, I'm not accusing _all_ Northern and Southern Italians of hating one another. But sadly, there is a small minority on both sides that do. Frankly, it sucks. Also, this "feud" that I'm writing about taking place in Perugia most likely doesn't exist in real life, but for the sake of my AU, it does.

Also, I am not labeling or stereotyping every single Southern Italian citizen as being affiliated with mafia culture. Just because their presence is there doesn't mean that everyone is riding their bandwagon and supporting their organization. To each their own.

**Resources**

Google

YouTube (There are dozens of Northern Italians vs. Southern Italian videos. Be warned, a few of them are disgustingly racist.)

My college history textbook Give Me Liberty! An American History

The 1891 New Orleans Lynching and U.S. – Italian Relations (Studies in Southern Italian and Italian-American Culture)

My Italian friends

Now let's get back to the story.

* * *

Germany found an area down the street where he could park his vehicle. Once he claimed a spot behind an alleyway, he turned the engine off. Germany and Spain looked to one another in anticipation to find the Italy Brothers. "I wonder where they could be right now?" Spain asked.

"We'll know soon. But I'm a little worried though that we'll accidentally run into them," Germany said with hesitance.

"Si…I thought of this, too. We have to blend in somehow."

"It won't be easy for us to blend in considering what we're wearing," Germany murmured with a tinge of frustration. Both men opened their car doors and they stepped out of the vehicle. They slammed the doors shut in unison and they walked up to one another. They looked around and scoped their surroundings. The old, stone cobbled streets were wide and unusually absent of traffic. The residents and tourist groups occupied the sidewalks and the roads. This caused both the nations to panic because they realized that it was going to be difficult for them to conceal themselves while they were spying.

"There aren't many trees," Germany noticed.

"Si...we can't hide ourselves anywhere. We're out in the open," Spain said with disappointment to his tone. He looked at Germany with great concern. "What are we going to do?"

"I have no idea," Germany answered. Both nations stood side by side and did not utter another word. All they could do was look around and ponder about what they could do to successfully spy on the Italy Brothers. While they were doing this, the voice of a young man began to shout to their direction.

"HEY, YOU TWO! HEY!"

Both Germany and Spain's bodies shuddered from the loud voice and they nervously gawked to their right side. A few feet away stood a blond haired, blue eyed teenaged boy who was gesturing to them with his right arm. "C'MON, YOU GUYS! DON'T STRAY AWAY FROM THE HERD!" he said in a cheerful tone. Both nations stared behind the young man and they noticed a large crowd of American tourists walking ahead to their next pinpoint of interest. Many of the men were wearing _Hawaiian _shirts.

Both Germany and Spain glanced to one another and they started snickering "Well, it looks like we can take cover now!" Germany choked.

"¡Si! Lets go!" Spain said and both men walked up toward the group of American tourists. The teenaged boy who had called out to them was one of two tour guides. He smiled to the nations and he handed them some tour maps. Further ahead was the other tour guide who was leading the group; he was also a teenager with similar features to his fellow co-worker. He spoke out loud and gestured to different things and explained their significance to everyone. They walked down a few blocks ahead until they reached an open square.

The tour guide paused and everyone stopped walking. He gestured his hands and pointed to a beautiful stoned water fountain. "Over here is the Fontana Maggiore! This water fountain was created all the way back in 1278!"

"Oooooh!" The American tourists excitedly interjected and they whipped out their smartphones and smartpads to either film or take photographs of the humungous medieval water fountain.

"Behind the Fontana Maggiore is Perugia Cathedral of San Lorenzo! It is still used today to serve Mass and it's also a religious museum!"

"Aaaaaah!" The American tourists expressed and they quickly filmed or took photographs of the church with their smart devices. As everyone was staring at the church, its bells began to ring vigorously and the tall wooden doors opened. Mass had just ended and everyone who had attended were now exiting the building. The tourists filmed and photographed the attendees. Germany and Spain blankly stared at the church, unimpressed. But then, two men stepped out of the church that they immediately recognized – it was Italy and Romano!

"_Oh, scheiße!_ (Oh, shit!)" Germany hissed and both he and Spain hurriedly opened their tour maps and they concealed their faces with them. They cautiously peeked behind their maps to catch some quick glances of their partners walking away from the church. Both Italy and Romano were arm in arm and they were smiling and talking with one another.

_ "¡Dios Mio! They're so cute!"_ Spain affectionately whispered.

_"Ja! They sure are!" _Germany concurred.

"OH, MIO DIO!" both tour guides happily cried in unison as they spotted the Italy Brothers walking down the street. "T-THEY'RE HERE! THEY'RE ACTUALLY HERE!"

"HEEEY! ITALY VENEZIANO! ITALY ROMANO! CIAO!"

"CIAO, NORTH ITALY! CIAO, SOUTH ITALY! WOOOO!"

Then, both tour guides looked to the American tourists and they sheepishly grinned to them. "Uh, please excuse us!" one of them said, "Those two men over there are the Fathers of our great nation – Italy Veneziano and Italy Romano!"

"Ooooh! Aaaah!" The tourists interjected and they filmed and photographed the nations standing afar. Both Italy and Romano had stopped walking and they stared directly toward Germany and Spain's direction. They smiled to the crowd and Italy excitedly waved to everyone. Germany and Spain continued to hide their faces with their tour maps.

"Please excuse us for just one minute! Only for a minute! Grazie!" the other tour guide said to the tourists and both he and his co-worker temporarily abandoned their post and they ran up to Italy and Romano. Once they were standing in front of them, they warmly embraced the nations and they kissed each other's cheeks.

Both Germany and Spain cautiously peeked over their maps to observe everything that was unfolding. Suddenly, the residents of Perugia were rushing up to the nations and they crowded around them. One by one, each person embraced and kissed them. Everybody was very joyous and thrilled to see them. Both Italy and Romano graciously welcomed everyone who greeted them with open arms.

"Veneziano! Romano! I can't believe my eyes!"

"Ciao! Welcome to Perugia!"

"We'll have a feast in your honor!"

"Feliciano! Lovino! God bless you! We love you so much!"

Unfortunately, there were a few Northern Perugians that lacked the etiquette of withholding their prejudices. As they came up to welcome Italy and to embrace him, they purposely snubbed Romano and refused to acknowledge him. Some Southern and Northern Perugians took notice of their brash insult and they enthusiastically hugged and kissed Romano.

"Never mind those jerks! They're members of _Lega Nord_!"

"Don't let them get you down, Roma! It's their loss!"

"We love you, South Italy!"

This was not the first time that Romano had been snubbed by his citizens. It has happened to him countless of times. He was used to it and he kept his opinions about them to himself. Although his exterior to others was strong and confident, internally, his heart was aching and he felt awkward. He would never admit it, but the rejection that he received from his citizens hurt his feelings. His brother had not taken notice of what had occurred. If he had, it would have made him _very_ upset.

Just when it seemed as if there could not be any more people to surround the Italy Brothers, a group of children of various ages pushed themselves through the adult crowd so they could see the nations. Once they were standing in front of them, the children stared at them with awe and wonderment.

"Vee~! Ciao!" Italy happily exclaimed. The older children smiled and they hugged the nations, whereas the little ones shyly looked up to them and giggled profusely amongst themselves. Romano looked to the water fountain and he gently nudged to his brother with his right elbow. "Hey, lets sit over there," he said.

Italy nodded and both nations gestured the children to follow them over to the fountain. They gladly obeyed and they ran ahead of them to the water fountain. The entourage of Perugians followed behind the nations. Once Italy and Romano were at the fountain, they sat themselves down. The Perugian citizens encircled the fountain and kept a distance and the children sat themselves onto the cobbled stone ground at the nations' feet. Immediately, the little children began petitioning their curiosity to Italy and Romano.

"How old are you?"

"What's your favorite food?"

"Do you like to dance?"

"Can I sit on your lap, Veneziano?"

"No! I want to sit on his lap!"

"Can I sit on your lap, Romano? Oh, please, please, please! Can I?!"

Both Italy and Romano chuckled with endearment to the children. Italy scooted away somewhat from his brother so there could be space in-between them for a child to sit there. He picked up a little boy to sit on one side of his lap and then he reached over to pick up a little girl to sit on the other side. Romano picked up the little boy who begged him to sit on his lap and he settled him onto his knee. The little boy pointed to his younger sister and asked if she could sit on his lap. Romano grinned and he motioned the girl to come forward. Shyly, she stepped up to him. Romano lifted her up with one arm and he settled her on his lap. The vacant space in-between the nations was quickly claimed by a little girl and she proudly sat and kicked her little feet up and down.

"You've all asked so many questions! Where should we start?" Italy happily asked.

"Oh! How old are you?! Answer that one first!" said the little girl sitting on his lap.

"Well, physically, I look twenty years old. But I'm much older than I actually appear!" Italy said.

"We're older than dirt," Romano teased and the children started to giggle. "I look twenty-three. But in reality, my brother and myself have been around for many centuries!"

The little children awed with amazement over how ancient the nations sitting before them actually were. A little girl sitting on the ground raised her hand as if she were in school. Italy smiled to her and he acknowledged her polite petition. The little girl stood up and she nervously asked her question. "D-Do you two look so young because…because y-you use anti-aging crème like my mama does?"

Suddenly, the nations, the teenagers and the adults began to laugh out loud. "Oh, no, honey! We don't! We're just fortunate to remain so young. That's a great question, though, and I'm so glad that you asked!" The little girl sheepishly grinned to Italy and she sat herself back down. Then, a dozen tiny arms shot up and many children were begging to be picked to ask a question. Romano pointed to a little boy and he quickly stood up on his feet.

"What do you like to eat?!" he cried, and he sat himself back down.

Italy giggled and he enthusiastically answered his question. "Paaassstttaaaa!" he cried, and all the children cheered and laughed.

"I love pasta, too and I love Neapolitan pizza. But my most favorite thing to eat by itself is tomatoes!" Romano said and the children cheered and giggled. The little children sitting on their lap nudged to him and they excitedly spoke to him.

"My uncle grows tomatoes on his land!" The boy said.

"He does? That's wonderful! Where does he live?" Romano asked.

"He's back home where my family come from, in Foggia! That's in…in…"

"THE _'HEEL!'_ WE'RE FROM THE 'HEEL!'" shouted the boy's little sister. She was referring to the high heel shaped landmass of Southern Italy's "boot".

Romano smiled to her and he nodded. "Your from the region of Apulia!" he said. The little girl smiled and she lovingly embraced the nation. Then, the children sitting on the ground fervently held up their hands. Italy pointed to a boy and the child stood up.

"Which Italy is the _best Italy?_" he asked and he remained standing up. Suddenly, the teenagers and adults began to mumble to one another and a slight tension was beginning to build between some Northerners and Southerners. Both Italy and Romano looked to one another. They, too, could pick up the growing uneasiness coming off from the crowd. They smiled to one another and they both looked back to the little boy.

"Well, you see, neither one of us could ever be considered the 'best' Italy because we're both _equally_ wonderful!" Italy answered.

"We may have our differences, but in the end, we're nothing without each other!" Romano concurred.

The little boy tilted his head slightly and he smiled. "Really?" he softly asked.

"Si!" Italy said, "Let us put it this way – I form the 'leg' of the continent – "

"And I form the 'calf' and the 'foot!'"

Both Italy and Romano held out their hands to each other and they interlocked them together in a firm handshake. "Together, united, we form a mighty, sturdy boot!" they both said.

The children giggled by the sweet analogy that the nations had used and the adults and teenagers chuckled and smiled to one another. The few of them who held their prejudices on both sides stubbornly ignored what the nations had said. Once the chuckling ceased, the nations let go of each other's hands and Romano continued to speak.

"It's our great citizens from North and South that help keep the great boot united. Divided, we wouldn't be the magnificent country that we've become today. Do you understand, honey?"

"Si! I do!" said the little boy and he sat back down, only to quickly stand up again to thank the nations. "Grazie!" he said, and he sat down once more. Suddenly, another young boy with blond hair stood up straight. He had decided to take the platform regardless of whether or not the nations had chosen somebody else to speak.

The child looked to Romano and he spoke to him. "My papa says that our country would be better off _without_ you. He says that you're a financial burden to us Northerners!" he said in a stubborn tone. Suddenly, everyone gasped and murmured in disbelief by the child's disobedient behavior. His parents, however, and their friends and comrades simply nodded their heads with approval of the child's opinion. His father crossed his arms and he looked to his son with pride.

Both Italy and Romano were taken aback by the child's statement. They looked to one another with concern expressed on their faces and they both looked back to the child. "It's true…you're right, I haven't been financially stable," Romano admitted, "but these are hard times right now for everybody, not just for me. I'm not the only one who is affected by the global recession. All we can do is try to work together to solve the situation – "

"It'll never be solved for you. You have nothing on your side of the country but farmers. They're worthless!" the child interrupted. The tension in the crowd thickened and some Southerners glared over to the Northerners whom they knew disliked them. The reaction was returned to them with ominous stares and gestures of intimidation. Those who wished to remain neutral tried to ignore the vendetta.

Romano's impatience was becoming thin with the child. He wanted to curse him out in his usual fashion. But because there were women and children present, he decided to continue to remain a gentleman and he softly lectured the child. "That's not true, young man. Not everyone who lives in South Italy is a farmer. And what if they were? That doesn't make them worthless! They're great, hard-working people! They produce the food that _you eat! _I'm not a backward nation like some people like to think of me to be. You shouldn't judge people that you've never met."

"Well…well, um…" the child stammered. He could not think of anything else to say that was relevant to the subject matter. So in the typical fashion of any child, he reverted to name-calling. "T-They're still stupid! Stupid farmers!"

"HEY!" shouted the Southerner boy on Romano's lap and he jumped off the nation's leg and he stomped up to the Northerner child. "MY UNCLE'S A FARMER AND HE'S NOT STUPID! _YOU'RE STUPID!"_

"AM NOT!"

"ARE TOO!"

"SHUT UP, _TERRONE!_"

Suddenly, the adults groaned with anger and frustration over the child's choice of words. The father to the Southerner boy came up to be by his side and he pointed his index finger to the Northerner child. "HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT WORD TO MY SON!" he yelled.

Then, the father to the Northerner child came up to the Southerner father and he pointed to him. "HEY! DON'T YOU BE POINTING YOUR FINGER IN MY SON'S FACE, YOU BASTARD!"

"WELL, NOW I KNOW HOW HE'S ACQUIRED HIS COLORFUL LANGUAGE! YOU MUST BE _SO PROUD!_"

"_I AM PROUD OF HIM!_ HIS MIND IS OPEN! HE SEE'S THE TRUTH ABOUT _YOUR KIND!"_

"_MY KIND?!_ IN CASE YOU'VE FORGOTTEN, WE SOUTHERNERS _ARE ITALIAN, TOO!_"

"OH, YEAH, RIGHT! YOU CLEARLY HAVE _ROMAN FEATURES_!" the Northerner father mocked and he pointed to the Southerner father's hair and face. "COARSE, BLACK, CURLY HAIR! DARK, BLACK EYES! BROWN SKIN! TRULY YOU ARE A REFLECTION OF ROMAN BEAUTY!" Suddenly, his wife, their friends and colleagues began to laugh. Even his son could not contain himself and his tiny lips formed a smirk.

The little Southerner girl sitting on Romano's lap self-consciously felt her short, dark, curly locks and she held out her sleeveless arms to look at her dark skin. The Northerner's toxic words manipulated her into thinking that she was unattractive. She dejectedly sighed and she looked down in defeat.

The Southerner father growled at the Northerner father and he stepped up closer to him. "THERE'S _NOTHING _WRONG WITH HOW I LOOK! I'M STILL AN ITALIAN! AND JUST SO YOU KNOW, NOT EVERY NORTHERNER IS _LILY WHITE_ LIKE YOU ARE! WE'RE ALL DIVERSE! GET OVER IT!"

"OH, DON'T MAKE ME GAG WITH THAT _LIBERAL AGENDA!_"

Suddenly, the adults began to complain and protest to one another and to the two fathers fighting in front of the nations. Some Northerners and Southerners exchanged derogatory words to one another. The rest of the neutral population yelled and complained to both bickering sides to stop fighting.

"STOP IT, EVERYONE! DON'T FIGHT IN FRONT OF OUR GUESTS!"

"DON'T DO THIS!"

"QUIT BEING SO IMMATURE!"

Both Italy and Romano settled the children from their laps onto the ground and they walked up to the angry fathers.

"P-PLEASE, DON'T FIGHT!" Italy begged.

"THAT'S ENOUGH! SETTLE DOWN, BOTH OF YOU!" Romano insisted.

The children who were sitting on the stone cobbled ground stood themselves up and backed away against the water fountain to keep away from the shouting fathers. They looked around and watched their parents misbehaving in a way that they were always taught never to do.

"W-Why is everybody fighting?" asked a very young Southerner child.

"I don't know!" answered a Northerner child.

Just then, the older blond Northerner boy and the Southerner boy were shouting to one another again and emulating how their fathers were behaving.

"YOU SUCK, _POLENTONE!_"

"DON'T CALL ME A POLENTONE, YOU TERRONE!" the Northerner child shouted and he pushed the Southerner child onto the ground. Suddenly, the little sister to the Southerner boy ran up to help her brother. She frowned at the blond Northerner boy and she tried to push him down with the same force he had against her sibling. "LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!" she angrily cried.

Suddenly, the Northerner gripped onto the Southerner girl's wrists and he held her still. "DON'T TOUCH ME, YOU UGLY _GUINEA!_" he shouted at her and he had the audacity to slap her in the face.

Immediately, the fathers, the nations and the crowd of fighting adults gasped in terror at what had just occurred. The Southerner girl's dark eyes began overflowing with tears from the sting of the Northerner boy's slap to her left cheek. They were also moistening because she _understood_ what that horrible word he called her meant. Her tiny shoulders quivered with emotion and she began to wail. Then, she turned around and she ran away from the public square and headed down the street that led her to her home.

"APOLLONIA! COME BACK!" her father shouted to her direction. But the little girl ignored her father's pleas and she ran away from his sight.

Suddenly, Romano had completely lost his temper and he knelt down to the Northerner boy to be to his level. He firmly grasped the boy's shoulders and he scolded him. "_HOW DARE YOU_ STRIKE HER! YOU ARE _NEVER_ TO LAY A HAND ON A GIRL! _EVER! SHAME ON YOU!_" he furiously shouted.

"I…I"

"AND HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT _FILTHY _WORD TO HER?! HOW OLD ARE YOU?!"

"I…I'm eight – "

"WHO TAUGHT YOU THAT WORD?!"

The Northerner boy raised his trembling arm and he pointed to the direction where his _mother _was standing. Romano glared to her direction and the woman's pale face turned crimson with sheer embarrassment. She avoided the nation's piercing stare by looking down to her feet. Her entourage around her who shared her beliefs also could not bear to look at Romano. For the first time in their lives, they were ashamed of themselves. Everyone else around them who did not share their beliefs simply nodded their heads in disbelief.

Romano looked back to the child. He wanted to rip him a new one. He had never felt such anger toward somebody in his long life. He was about to scold him again until the boy began to cry. Romano released his grip onto the Northerner child's shoulders and the boy tried to wipe away his tears. He looked up to Romano and he blubbered profusely. Romano's heart softened for the child and he wrapped his arms around him. The boy's crying turned into tremendous sobbing and he buried his face onto Romano's chest.

Then, the unthinkable happened – Italy _lost his temper._ He glared to the two fathers and to everyone standing around them. He especially stared toward the Northerner child's mother and her entourage. Their presence _disgusted him._ His face was turning beet red with rage and he began shouting at everyone.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT I'VE WITNESSED HERE TODAY! NEVER IN MY LIFE HAVE I EVER BEEN SO ASHAMED OF MY PEOPLE UNTIL NOW!"

"V-Veneziano! Please don't be mad at me!" murmured an older woman from the crowd, "I-I don't believe in those people's white supremacy! I-I don't get involved with the feud! I mind my own business and I completely stay out of it!"

"AND THAT MAKES YOU INNOCENT?!" Italy screamed, "YOU'RE EVEN _WORSE_ THAN THEM! YOU'VE WITNESSED THE UGLINESS OF RACISM AND THE DIVISION OF THIS CITY AND YOU'VE DONE _NOTHING_ TO END IT! YOU'VE LOOKED AWAY AND TURNED A BLIND EYE! YOU'RE _TERRIBLE!_"

The older woman shamefully looked away from the nation. Then, Italy looked back to the fathers and he scolded them. "BOTH OF YOU ARE AWFUL!" he shouted.

"B-But Veneziano! He started it!" cried the Southerner father.

"DON'T EVEN TRY TO PLAY THE 'VICTIM' FOR ME. I OVERHEARD THE WORD THAT YOUR SON SAID TO HIS SON. YOU'RE EQUALLY AS BAD AS HIS MOTHER FOR TEACHING SUCH HORRIBLE LANGUAGE TO YOUR CHILD!" Italy then glared to the Northerner father and he shouted to him. "AND YOU! YOU THINK THAT YOU BRING ME HONOR WITH YOUR HEINOUS BELIEFS?! YOU THINK THAT I SUPPORT YOUR IDEOLOGY?! I DON'T! _YOU DISGRACE ME!_"

Both the fathers looked down to their feet. Italy shouted one last time to the crowd. "YOU'VE ALL SET A TERRIBLE EXAMPLE FOR YOUR CHILDREN BY TAKING AWAY THEIR INNOCENCE WITH YOUR POISONOUS BEHAVIOR! YOUR ACTIONS HAVE DISHONORED YOUR COUNTRY – YOU HAVE DISHONORED _US!_"

Everyone shamefully looked away from Italy and Romano. Many had tears streaming down their faces. They had been rightly scolded for their rotten behavior. Meters away stood the group of the American tourists; Germany and Spain were standing behind them and their eyes were completely transfixed on Italy. They were completely stunned by everything that had occurred in front of them. They were so deeply involved that, without realizing it, they had dropped their maps and they were completely exposed for both Italy and Romano to see. But thankfully, the large crowd of Perugians concealed them from being spotted at all. Neither one could understand what had happened, but seeing the little girl slapped was enough for them to realize that this was a serious and inauspicious situation.

Spain looked over to Germany with his luminous green eyes widening with surprise. "I…I've never seen Italy so angry before!" he cried in a quiet tone.

"M-Me neither," Germany said as his gleaming blue eyes stared toward his beloved, "I didn't think that he _could_ get angry." For the first time in Germany's life, he was actually _intimidated_ by Italy's presence. This was not the man he knew. That lovely tenor voice angrily shouting; the strong, ominous presence of his body trembling with rage and his handsome, kind face expressing revulsion and hatred. This was not Italy. He must be an imposter. He must have been. He _should _have been. But it was actually him and this _frightened_ Germany tremendously.

Italy's ancient heart palpitated inside his chest. His breathing fastened after he had yelled to his citizens. He turned his back to them and he looked to Romano who was still kneeling down and holding the Northerner child in his arms. "C'mon, Roma. We're going home," Italy uttered and he began to walk away from the water fountain.

"W-What?" Romano asked.

Italy turned around and paused. "I don't want to stay here any longer. We're leaving!" he insisted.

Romano and the Northerner child looked to one another and the nation released him from his arms. The boy timidly backed away from him and he stepped over to his father's side and he held his hand. The Southerner child then walked up to his own father and he held onto his hand. Neither man nor child made eye contact with one another and both families solemnly walked away in opposite directions. The crowd around them began to slowly disperse and the children by the water fountain ran over to rejoin their families. Not a single word was uttered and an eerie silence filled the square.

Romano stood up and he walked to his brother's side. Both nations silently began to walk away from the square. As they were walking away in silence, Romano looked over his shoulder to the Southerner father. He was haunted by what had happened to his daughter. He wanted to see her again. He wanted to talk to her. Walking away from this unpleasant situation without a resolution between his family and the Northerner family or even with the Perugian citizens themselves was not the right thing to do. He knew that this could end in a much better, forgiving way.

"Wait," he said to his brother and he stopped walking. Italy paused and he stared at him. Romano continued, "I-I can't leave without talking to that little girl. Please, fratello, I have to see her. Please…"

Italy's stern expression softened and his face resembled his old self once again. He slowly sighed and he simply nodded his approval for his older brother to go back. Romano smiled to him and he placed his hand onto Italy's shoulder. "Grazie," he said and he quickly turned around and he ran over to the Southerner father. Italy watched his brother get the father's attention. He watched them converse with one another. Then, the father suddenly wrapped his arms around Romano and he began to weep. Romano compassionately comforted the middle-aged man and he held him closely to his own body. Then, after a minute had passed, they broke their embrace and the nation, the father and his son began to walk down the street as to where his home was located.

Meanwhile, both Germany and Spain watched the Italy Brothers and Spain obsessively stared at Romano with the father and son. "Why is he going with them?" he asked.

"Maybe that man is the father to that little girl," Germany answered while his eyes were staring at Italy, who was now sitting alone on a park bench. He wished so much to know what was going on. Being left out in the dark because he could not understand Italian was making him very frustrated. He looked to the tourists who stood around himself and Spain and many of them looked confused as well. Then, their tour guides walked up to them and they motioned to them that they were ready to continue their tour.

"W-We apologize for the inconvenience," said one tour guide in English.

"L-Lets continue where we left off, shall we?" said the other tour guide in English.

"Excuse me, but what just happened?" asked one of the tourists.

The tour guides looked to one another and they hesitantly responded. "W-What happened just now...well – "

"It's difficult to explain. It doesn't really matter – "

"Bitte!" Germany suddenly cried, "I'd like to know as well. As a foreigner, I'd like to be informed of what we've witnessed."

The tour guides sighed and they reluctantly began to explain the situation to everybody. The nations listened intently as they explained the history between Northern Italians and Southern Italians, their prejudices against one another and what exactly had occurred in front of their eyes moments ago. The tourists and both nations were taken aback by this sad situation. Once everything was fully explained, one of the tour guides walked ahead and he motioned everyone to begin following him. Everybody began to walk forward except Germany and Spain. Spain looked away from the tour group and he stared to the direction where Romano and the father and son had walked to; he could still see them at a distance.

"I-I have to follow Lovi," Spain insisted.

"What?!" Germany cried.

"Por favor, I need to know why he's going over there. If he's going to see that poor little girl, I want to know what'll happen!"

"But what's the point? You won't be able to understand a word they'll be saying to each other!"

"Oh, yes, I will!" Spain said and he suddenly ran up to one of the tour guides and he grabbed him by the shoulder. Germany watched Spain pull out his wallet and he bribed him with a thick wad of money. He realized that Spain was paying the tour guide to be his translator.

"Man, he can be brilliant sometimes," Germany said to himself and he watched the nation whisked the tour guide away from the tour group. Spain looked back to Germany and gave him an A-OK signal with his right hand.

"I'LL BE RIGHT BACK!" he yelled and both men ran off.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

**Author's Note:** I'd like to say hello to all the new readers following this story! Hi! Thanks for taking an interest in it! Thank you for the follows/favorites and comments! :)

I'd like to give my sincere thanks to AnimeGirl9894 again for writing her wonderful story _South Italy, Not Romano_ because if it hadn't been for her fanfiction, I never would have made a random Google search to learn more about Italy's geography and the differences between North and South. I found out a lot more than I bargained for and it inspired me to write Chapters 10 and 11. So thank you, AnimeGirl9894! These chapters couldn't exist without you!

There's only one more Author's Note in this chapter. I promise, it's not tl;dr like the previous one in Chapter 10.

Thank you! Onward to Chapter 11!

* * *

Italy solemnly sat alone on a park bench that was just a few kilometers away from the water fountain. His legs were crossed and he settled his right elbow onto the bench's arm. He rested his aching head against the palm of his hand and he heavily let out a sigh. The nation was suffering from a terrible migraine. It had developed after he had emotionally scolded his citizens moments ago. The public square was unnaturally devoid of any Perugians and tourists. He was completely alone, or so he thought. Without his knowledge, Germany was watching him from afar; he was silently standing behind a building a few kilometers away and he was cautiously peering over to look at him.

Italy was disturbed by everything that had occurred today. He was still furious with his citizens for their terrible behavior. To him, it gave off a bad reflection upon himself. He despised being associated with their racism. He despised the concept of racism itself. Thinking about these things reminded him of his past; it reminded him of his involvement with the Axis and with World War II. Today's actions triggered painful and unpleasant flashbacks of a time when _he_ was once accused of exhibiting the same xenophobic beliefs that were infamously preached by Germany's former government. These accusations were pointed at him by the Allies and from his _own brother,_ all because he had chosen to stay by Germany's side.

The nation's head throbbed tremendously as his mind hinted suppressed memories that he wished that he could completely forget. He could hear his own shouting voice echoing inside his head. He could hear himself pathetically declaring his petitions of innocence to Romano after the Allies captured him on May 8th, 1945.

_"…That wasn't the reason why I stayed!..."_

_"…I've never shared those beliefs and neither has Ludwig!..."_

_"…Ti amo, fratello! Ti amo! Please don't turn your back to me!..."_

_"…Don't abandon me, Romano!..."_

Italy suddenly lifted his head up. He formed his hand into a fist and he violently slammed it onto the arm of the park bench. Doing this caused his head to throb even harder and the nation softly groaned. He settled his elbow onto the bench's arm again and he pressed his aching forehead onto his palm. The brief flashbacks of time's past had diminished and he was, for now, not being tormented. Italy wanted to check the time on his watch, but as he opened his eyes, his migraine protested. The luminous sunlight was too bright and his eyes had temporarily become too sensitive to look at anything. He assumed by the intensity of the sunlight that the day must be in High Noon.

Meanwhile, Germany silently observed his beloved from afar. He could see that Italy was being confronted by his inner demons again by the way his body language spoke to him. He could also tell that he was battling a migraine.

"I can't just stand here and let him suffer like this," he murmured to himself and he reached for his iPhone and he immediately used Google to locate the nearest drug store. When the device told him where to go, he decided to abandon his post and go to the drug store to buy some medicine. He ran down the direction where he needed to go to find the drug store. Once he was there, he went up to the clerk and he pointed to the over-the-counter migraine medication that he needed. The clerk understood his mute demands and he retrieved the small box for him. Germany then grabbed a chilled water bottle from the displayed mini refrigerator and he paid the clerk what was owed to him.

Finally, Germany ran back to the direction as to where Italy was located. He resumed his post behind the building and he peered over to see his beloved. Italy was still sitting alone on the bench and his eyes remained tightly shut. "I could give these items to him anonymously by running past him and placing them onto the bench!" he murmured to himself again. It was a brilliant idea. It was his _only_ idea. All he needed to do now was wait for the right opportunity to come up so he could fulfill his plan.

After a few minutes, that opportunity finally arrived. Italy raised his right arm and he made the Sign of the Cross. Germany knew that he was praying to God for comfort. Germany positioned himself and he suddenly dashed across the square to send his special delivery.

"Oh, Lord! Please help me! My head hurts so much!" Italy sadly cried to himself. Suddenly, a dull thud was heard to his left side. Carefully, the nation opened his eyes and he allowed them to adjust to the brightness of the sunlight. He looked to his side and to his astonishment there was a box of migraine medication and a cold water bottle! Italy's jaw dropped and he looked up to the cloudy blue sky. He ignored the agony that his head produced as his eyes completely opened and he crossed himself again. "Thank you, Lord! Gee, that was fast!" he innocently said.

Germany watched him from behind another building adjacent to Italy's direction. He overheard his beloved's praise to Heaven and his gullibility tugged on the nation's heartstrings. "Gott, Italia! You're so precious!" he said to himself and a kind smile curled on his face. He observed Italy opening the box and taking out the bottle of medication. Once he had swallowed the two tablets he took out of the bottle, Germany could finally feel at ease. It made him feel good to know that Italy would no longer be suffering all by himself.

The medication took off inside the nation's bloodstream and Italy was beginning to feel some relief from his migraine. He could finally relax himself on the bench and he could keep his eyes open. He looked to his watch like he wanted to before and he read the time. It was 12:43 PM. He pondered to himself how long Romano had been away while he went to pay a visit to the little Southerner girl. Italy felt guilty for not accompanying his brother to see her. He wanted to talk to her, too. But he believed that deep down Romano was the best person to console the little girl. He represented who _she was._ They both shared the same blood linage and, tragically, the same tears and heartaches at being discriminated against.

* * *

Apollonia angrily swung open the front door to her two-story home. Her tiny face was soaked with tears and a burning rage internally consumed her. Her mother who was in kitchen preparing lunch overheard the loud chokes of emotion expressed by her daughter. "Apollonia?! What's wrong?!" she cried and she tried to hurry herself out of the kitchen to be by the little girl's side. She was in her third trimester of her third pregnancy and her heavy, swollen belly prevented her from rushing to her daughter's aid. Once she was, however, she carefully knelt down to the child's level and she openly held her arms outward.

Apollonia ran into her mother's arms and she sobbed profusely against her warm body. Her mother wrapped her arms around her and she gently stroked the girl's curly black hair. "What has happened, sweetheart?! Why are you crying?!" she asked.

"F-FABRIZIO C-CALLED ME A G-GUINEA! A-AND…AND HE SLAPPED ME, TOO!" Apollonia wailed.

Her mother gently gripped her trembling shoulders and she held her away so they could make eye contact with each other. "WHAT?! HOW DARE HE DO THIS TO YOU! WHAT AN AWFUL BOY HE IS!" her mother furiously shouted. This was not the first time that the Northerner child had called her daughter that derogatory word. It was, however, the first time that she was physically assaulted. "WHERE IS YOUR FATHER AND YOUR BROTHER?! DID THEY SEE WHAT HAPPENED?!"

"S-SI…THEY WERE THERE…AT THE WATER FOUNTAIN! FABRIZIO PUSHED MARTINO AND I-I TRIED TO HELP HIM! PAPA GOT INTO A FIGHT WITH FABRIZIO'S PAPA, TOO!"

Apollonia's mother released her grip onto her daughter's shoulders and she buried her face into her hands. Hearing such terrible news was too overwhelming for her, especially under her delicate condition. She tried to appear strong in front of Apollonia by not breaking down and crying. She feared that this would cause more grief for the child. She brought her hands away from her own face and she looked into her daughter's bloodshot eyes.

"I'm going to call the police and press charges against The Bartalottis! Don't you worry, Apollonia! I'll put a stop to this!"

"I-IT DOESN'T MATTER! IT'LL CONTINUE NO MATTER WHAT!" Apollonia screamed. She stomped her tiny feet onto the wooden floorboard and fresh tears poured down her cheeks. "I DON'T WANNA LIVE HERE ANYMORE! I WANNA GO HOME!"

"B-But darling, _this _is our home now! We can't go back to Foggia! Your Papa's job is here in Perugia!"

"T-THEN I'LL RUN AWAY TO ZIO ALDO'S HOUSE!"

"Apollonia! Try to listen to me," her mother insisted and she placed her hands onto her daughter's shoulders, "Things _will_ get better soon. I promise you, darling! This will never happen to you ever again – "

"YES, IT WILL!"

"No, it won't – "

"IT WILL SO! AND ALL BECAUSE I LOOK LIKE…LIKE _THIS!" _Apollonia shrieked and she tugged on her own black, curly hair. "I HATE MY HAIR, MAMA! I HATE MY SKIN COLOR! I-I'M SO UGLY!"

"NO, YOU'RE NOT, APOLLONIA! STOP SAYING THAT! IT'S NOT TRUE!" her mother shouted.

"Y-YES IT IS! W-WHY CAN'T I LOOK LIKE YOU AND MARTINO?!" Apollonia was referring to her mother and older brother's smooth, straight brown hair, green eyes and olive complexion.

Her mother sighed heavily and she looked into her daughter's dark eyes. "Because you take after Papa, sweetie! You're _so attractive_, just like he is! Why can't you see that for yourself?!" she said in a remorseful tone.

"Y-YOU'RE LYING! I'M UGLY! I'M UGLY!" Apollonio cried and she yanked on her own curls even harder. Her mother immediately grabbed her daughter's small hands and she forced her to stop pulling on her thick tresses.

"STOP THAT! THAT'S ENOUGH!" the mother insisted. She held onto Apollonio's hands and she gently kissed them. She looked into the child's face and she reluctantly caved in under pressure to please her daughter. "I-If it bothers you this much, then…then I'll take you to the salon tomorrow and we'll get your hair _chemically straightened."_

Apollonia glared to her mother and she jerked her hands away from her hold. She backed away and her lips quivered with emotion. She shouted to her mother one last time and her eyes welled with tears. "I-IT MAKES NO DIFFERENCE WHAT YOU DO TO MY HAIR! I'M _STILL_ AN UGLY GUINEA NO MATTER WHAT!" She then turned around and she ran up the staircase. Once on the second level, she ran inside her bedroom and she slammed the door shut.

Her mother broke down and she began to weep. She felt utterly hopeless in this complicated situation. She had tried numerous times to end her daughter's self-hatred, and yet nothing seemed to phase it. The mother slowly got herself to stand up and she walked over to the corner of the living room where the family's religious shrine was arranged. She then knelt down onto the kneeler and she made the Sign of the Cross. She emotionally looked up to the Crucifix that hung on the wall and the various statues of different Saints and of the Blessed Virgin Mary that stood on the tabletop.

"Oh, God! I-I don't know what to do! Please…please help me, Lord! I can't deal with this anymore! Please help my precious Apollonia see how wonderful she is! I-I need a miracle!" the mother gently petitioned. She buried her wet face into her trembling hands and her weeping increased into uncontrollable sobbing.

* * *

Apollonia paced back and fourth inside her pink adorned bedroom. Her crying had increased and her rage had reached its breaking point. She paused and glared at her own reflection from the white painted wooden vanity table set. She stomped up to the vanity table and she roughly flipped the mirror around so it could not reflect her image anymore. She then walked over to her large doll collection. She looked at every doll and she admired the ones with the palest complexion. She was very envious of their shade. She wanted to change her appearance so badly and to look exactly like they did. Then, she believed, she would finally be seen to everyone as being beautiful.

Apollonia's bloodshot eyes suddenly spotted a cute plush doll wearing a folk dress that was sitting amongst the other dolls. She glared at its appearance, for it resembled how she actually looked. She hated its dark complexion and its poofy, black, curly hair. The little girl cherry picked the doll out of her collection. She ran over to the other side of the bedroom and she opened the window. Then, she extended her arm as far back as she could and she angrily threw the doll out of the window.

She then went over to her dresser and she opened the top shelf. Her little hands reached underneath her folded skirts and she pulled out a bottle of _Fair and Lovely_. It was a whitening crème that was supposed to chemically lighten her skin. But for reasons unknown to her, the product had never worked. She held onto it, though, as it brought comfort that there was an option for her to change her skin color. Apollonia was depending on one of her friends to steal another bottle of Fair and Lovely from her mother and to give it to her soon.

The despairing little girl stepped over to her bed and she plopped on her stomach. She clutched the bottle in her hand and she wrapped her arms around one of her oversized pillows. Apollonia tightly hugged the pillow and she softly wept onto its surface.

* * *

**Author's Note**: When I accidentally ran into the whole North Italy vs. South Italy feud on the Internet, I also came across different messages boards and videos on YouTube promoting the value of skin whitening. Skin whitening products like _Fair and Lovely_ are very popular in general populations that may have a natural dark skin complexion (Latin America, Africa, the Mediterranean, Middle East and South East Asia).

This product is available in Italy, but its very popular in South Italy than it is in North Italy. The ironic thing is that some Northern Italians love to go tanning. They want to achieve a dark complexion. But some Southern Italians who are naturally dark want to lighten their skin.

Fair and Lovely is an extremely popular skin whitening crème from India and its globally distributed for anyone to purchase. There are many commercials for the product on YouTube. Their ads are _deplorable. _Each commercial is a promotion of self-hatred. They're all pretty much the same: an attractive, naturally dark-skinned woman is down on her luck. She can't find a job. She can't find love or her marriage is failing. Why? _She's too_ _dark!_ So she decides to use Fair and Lovely. When her skin has become ghostly white, all of her hopes and dreams are _finally_ achieved! She gets the job! She gets the man! If she's married, her husband reconsiders going through the divorce! All is well!

Seriously, it's the worst product placement I've ever seen in my life. But tragically, it sells.

* * *

Romano, the Southerner father and his son walked down the street toward the family's home. The little boy was in-between his father and the nation and both men held onto his small hands. The father formally introduced himself as Carlo Giordano and he was a computer engineer who had just transferred to Perugia for a promotion with his job. His family had only been living in the Central Italian city less than a year, but Mr. Giordano explained to Romano the difficulties that his family had with assimilating into their new neighborhood.

"Apollonia has been teased a lot by her Northerner classmates. Not all of them are bad, mind you. But the children whom their families belong with Lega Nord have continually tormented her because she looks different."

"What about the other Southerner children? Do they get harassed, too?" Romano asked with great concern.

"Yes, they do. But Apollonia gets picked on the most because…well, she's the _darkest_ Southerner child. She takes after me, unfortunately – "

"Why do you say _that?_" Romano interrupted, "There's nothing wrong with how you both look!"

"I know, South Italy! It's just…if she looked more like my wife, Giada and my son, then life for her would be much easier here! She was never harassed like this back home in Foggia. I have terrible regret for leaving your side of the country. When you're around your own people who look similar to you, it's comforting. You rarely have to experience discrimination when your community shares the same identity. I shouldn't have taken that comfort away from my family."

Romano sighed with frustration. It hurt his ancient heart to listen to Mr. Giordano's honesty. Sadly, he understood quite too well how difficult it was being a foreigner in a strange, new land with people of a different lineage. He briefly recalled his childhood in 16th Century Spain and the struggles he faced against the Spanish members of Court. He could still hear the atrocious names they would call him, either behind his back on right to his face. He could still feel the stinging sensations of being slapped or kicked by the adults that he was reluctant to serve. He could still envision himself getting into physical altercations with the privileged Spanish children of Court and having the blame pointed to him for starting the fights. These prestigious members of Spanish society had been deceased now for almost five hundred years, and yet not a day went by when Romano did not look back to those unspeakable times with bitter resentment. He held such resentment even today against their modern descendants who fill the seats of Court and Parliament.

Romano wanted to give Mr. Giordano the best advice possible on this burdensome situation. He thought of what to say to him. When he was ready to share his opinion, he hoped that somehow his point would come out correctly.

"You're an honorable man, Mr. Giordano. I can see how much you love your family. But you shouldn't have any regret leaving Foggia, nor should you contemplate retreating back to your home. I know that it would be easier for you to go back. Believe me, I sympathize with you. But you have the right to live in Perugia, too. You've settled here and you must try to make the best of it."

Mr. Giordano solemnly nodded and he looked to the nation with a mixture of compassion and melancholy expressed on his face. "Grazie, South Italy, for thinking fondly of me. But I still can't help thinking about going back to Foggia…and if we were unable to do so, then maybe I'd send Apollonia back home to live with my brother. She misses him and his family so much. She also misses her old friends. Perhaps, for her sake, it would be the best option."

"No offense, Mr. Giordano, but if you do this for her, you're molding her to believe that it's okay to run away from your problems. It would destroy her self-worth and she'll grow up to become a cowardly woman plagued with insecurities. By also sending her away, you let her bullies win. That would send a bad example to them into thinking that what they've done was right. She must stay here in Perugia and remain headstrong. Don't give up on her when she's clearly begun giving up on herself."

Mr. Giordano smiled to his nation and he nodded in agreement. "You're right, South Italy. Forgive me for doubting your word. You're truly a great sage!" he exclaimed.

Romano chuckled by being called a sage and his cheeks flushed. "Oh, I'm anything but a wise man!" he said.

"But you are!" Mr. Giordano insisted, "Your advice is wonderful and passionate! You speak from the heart! It makes me think that somehow you can relate to my daughter's plight."

"I do, actually…I can relate all too well…"

"But you overcame it all, didn't you?"

"Yes, I did…but I didn't do it alone."

Mr. Giordano smiled warmly to his nation and his enquiring mind wanted to know who helped him. "May I ask, who helped you out?' he asked.

Romano's heart fluttered inside his chest as he thought about his beloved partner, Spain. It was he who stood up for him and defended his honor against his enemies. Spain had made a promise to him when he was a child that he would never allow anyone to ever hurt him again. He has stood true to his word ever since. Romano could sense his brown eyes moistening with tears. He gulped once to contain his emotion and he tenderly answered Mr. Giordano's question.

"A good friend…who wouldn't give up on me."

* * *

Trailing behind Mr. Giordano, his son and Romano were Spain and the young tour guide that he had bribed to be his translator. They cautiously followed them and they both tried their best not to bring any attention upon themselves. The only thing that Spain knew about the tour guide at this point was that his name was Francis, but he preferred to be called Frankie. He was seventeen years old and, thankfully, he was fluent in Spanish.

Neither man conversed with one another while they were on their secret pursuit. When they finally arrived to Mr. Giordano's traditional two-story house, they hide behind a pair of bushes and they observed everyone walking inside the home. Then, they both darted out of the bushes and they entered the property. Both men ran to the side of the house. They timidly peeked inside through the open living room window and they saw Mrs. Giordano weeping in front of the family shrine. As they noticed Mr. Giordano and his son walking into the room, both Spain and Frankie hid themselves away from the window. Spain crawled on his knees to get to Frankie's side and then he stood himself up. As they listened to the Giordanos conversing with one another, Frankie whispered in Spanish what they were discussing word by word.

"Sweetheart! Please don't weep anymore! It's bad for the baby!" Mr. Giordano cried as he walked up to console his wife. Their young son Martino rushed up to his mother and he wrapped his arms around her side.

"I can't help it! I'm so upset! Apollonia has told me everything! Oh, Carlo! I'm all out of options in helping her! I don't know what to do anymore! I've prayed to God to help us! B-But I don't know if He will or not!" Mrs. Giordano tragically sobbed and she rested her face onto her husband's right shoulder.

Mr. Giordano kissed his wife's cheek and he held her tightly in his strong arms. "Perhaps your prayers have been answered, Giada…I've brought a guest home to talk to Apollonia – "

"A _guest?!_" Mrs. Giordano gasped and she pulled away from her husband, "How could you think of bringing someone home at a time like this?! The house is a mess and I look absolutely terrible – " Suddenly, she became loss for words and her jaw dropped as she saw Romano walk into the living room. She clasped her hand over her gaping mouth and her eyes widened with shock.

Romano walked up to Mrs. Giordano and he extended his hand to her. Mrs. Giordano shyly reached over and she grasped the nation's right hand with her own. Romano smiled to her and he broke his silence. "Oh, Mrs. Giordano! I beg to differ! You are looking quite _ravishing _this afternoon," he tenderly said and he chivalrously kissed her hand.

Mrs. Giordano's olive complexion turned crimson after her prestigious guest complemented her. She nervously began to giggle and she brought her other hand away from her lips so she could reveal her smile. "S-South Italy! Mio Dio! W-What are you doing here? N-Not that I mean that you're welcome here! Of course you're welcome here! " she nervously blurted.

Romano softly chuckled and he answered the woman's petitions. "I came here to speak to your daughter, Signora (Ma'am)."

"So…you know what has happened to her?"

"Si, Signora, I do. My brother and myself were witnesses to everything that has happened to Apollonia."

Mrs. Giordano's smile diminished and her green eyes watered up with tears. As she began to cry again, Romano gently caressed her hand. "Oh, please, Mrs. Giordano…please don't cry…my heart wrenches to see you this way…"

Mr. Giordano pulled out a handkerchief out of his jean pocket and he lovingly began wiping his wife's tears away. He then gestured her to sit on the couch and she proceeded to do so. She sat in-between her husband and her nation and she used the handkerchief to wipe her face. Her son sat next to his father and he looked to his mother with compassion.

"O-Our precious little girl has been struggling so much living here in Perugia…I-I've tried helping her, South Italy…b-but nothing I do consoles her…I-I feel so helpless – "

"That's why I've come here, Signora. I understand what she's been going through. I think that with my own personal experiences, I could be able to help her and give her some guidance. May I speak to her now?"

"O-Of course you may, South Italy!" Mrs. Giordano said and she turned her gaze to the staircase as she began calling for her daughter. "APOLLONIA! COULD YOU PLEASE COME DOWNSTAIRS? THERE'S SOMEONE HERE TO SEE YOU!"

No response.

"APOLLONIA!" Mr. Giordano shouted, "HONEY, COME DOWN HERE! PLEASE?"

No response.

Both parents dejectedly looked to one another. "S-She's not coming down," Mrs. Giordano quietly uttered.

Romano looked to the staircase with concern. Without a doubt, he knew that the girl must be too distraught to leave her room. So, he decided that he would go upstairs to see her. He stood himself up from the couch and he faced the parents. "May I have your permission to converse with Apollonia upstairs?" he asked.

"Si, of course you may," Mr. Giordano answered and his wife nodded in agreement.

"Grazie," Romano said and he proceeded to walk to the staircase. Once he was there, he began to ascend up the stairs.

"Her room is the third door to your left! You can't miss it!" Mrs. Giordano said.

Romano looked down to her and he smiled. "Grazie, Signora" he said and he continued to walk up the stairs. Both husband and wife looked to one another and they embraced each other. Their son stood up from the couch and he squeezed himself in-between them. His parents smiled to him and they hugged him tightly in their arms.

"Do you think that Romano will help Apollonia?" Martino asked.

Both parents looked to one another without any certainty. "_He has to…_this has got to work," Mrs. Giordano softly uttered, "God knows we can't reach her. He's our _only_ hope."

* * *

Frankie nudged Spain with his right elbow. _"South Italy is going upstairs to talk to the little girl,"_ he whispered in Spanish.

_"So now we have to figure out how we could listen to their conversation,"_ Spain said and he backed away from the house. He cautiously began to walk to the back of the property and he looked up to the windows. _"One of these windows has to belong to the little girl's bedroom! But which one?" _

_ "Hey! Look over there!"_ Frankie gasped and he pointed to a doll that was lying on the ground. Both men rushed up to it and Spain picked it up. He then looked upward and he spotted an open bedroom window. _"That must be her bedroom!"_ he cried.

Frankie hurriedly jumped up to catch a quick glimpse of the bedroom. All he could see was that the bedroom walls were painted pink. _"I-It could be her room! I can't really tell from down here,"_ he said.

Spain sighed and he decided to sit himself down against the wall of the house. He sat down next to the house's water gutter. Immediately, he could hear weeping echoing through the water gutter pipe. Spain looked to it and he stared upward at its base. There was a laceration on an area that was adjacent to the bedroom window. Spain was _listening_ to Apollonia's crying through the water gutter.

_"Hey! Hey, Frankie! Come sit over here! Listen!" _ Spain eagerly whispered and the teenager came up to him and he sat himself down next to the water gutter. He, too, could hear the child's crying through the piping. He winked to Spain and gave him an A-OK signal with his hand.

_"This is very clear to listen through! I should be able to translate for you!"_ he said.

Spain hopes were skyrocketing once again. He could not wait to be told what his partner wanted to say to the little girl. He personally understood how sensitive Romano's heart was when it came to the opposite sex. He _loved_ females. He was not sexually attracted to them, however. There was purity and innocence when it came to his affection for them. He strongly believed that all women and girls were blessings on Earth and that they all deserved to be treated with adoration, dignity and respect. Apollonia was treated the opposite today. But Spain had great confidence in Romano that he would be able to erase the wounds that were verbally and physically afflicted on her.

_'Go, Lovi! You can do it!' _he thought to himself.

* * *

Romano walked up to the third bedroom door. It had a pink wooden sign nailed to it and its inscription read _Apollonia's Room. _The nation took a deep breath and he gently knocked on the door. "Apollonia! It's me, South Italy! May I come in?" he kindly asked.

Inside the bedroom, Apollonia lifted her head from her pillow and she looked over to the door. She rubbed her wet eyes and she patted her tiny palms onto her soaked cheeks to wipe them dry. "S-South Italy is _here?_" she asked herself. She was intrigued by this sudden visitation and yet, she was not in the mood to converse with him. She would rather be left alone wallowing in her sorrows. So she stubbornly ignored him and she planted her face against her soaked pillow once more.

Romano waited for Apollonia to open the door. When she did not, however, he decided to knock on it again. He was not going to give up on seeing her. After he knocked on the door, he spoke out loud. "Apollonia! May I come in?" he said in a welcoming tone.

Apollonia slowly peered over to the door. Now she was becoming interested in visiting with him. After all, he was _her_ nation. He was a representation of her roots. Her family loved him dearly and so did she. So finally, she got out of bed and she walked up to the bedroom door. She reached up and grabbed the doorknob, turned it and opened the door. She looked up to see Romano standing in front of her with a sweet expression on his face. "Ciao, Apollonia!" he said.

The little girl's dark eyes widened when she saw Romano. A small smile appeared on her face and she acknowledged his greeting. "C-Ciao," she shyly murmured.

"I'm so glad to see you again! Would it be all right if we had a little chat?"

Apollonia thought about this request for a moment. She did want to talk to him. She liked his company and she fully trusted him. The little girl silently nodded her head and she stepped aside and gestured outwardly to her bedroom. "C-Come in," she said.

Romano grinned to the child. "Grazie!" he exclaimed and he stepped inside her bedroom. After he stepped inside, Apollonia closed the door behind him. Then, she walked over to Romano and she grabbed his right hand. "Sit over here!" she insisted and she led him to her bed. Once they were at the bed, Apollonia jumped up and sat herself in the middle portion. She slapped her tiny palm onto the edge of her mattress. "Sit here!" she said.

Romano smiled at her and he obeyed. "Sì, Signorina!" (Yes, Miss!) he said and he sat himself down where she wanted him to be. He looked around her bedroom and he admired how she decorated it. "Your room is very pretty! It's very pink!" he said.

"Grazie…I like pink," Apollonia responded as she reached behind her pillow to retrieve a plush bunny she wanted to hold.

"I like pink, too," Romano said and then he looked back to the little girl. "How old are you, sweetheart?"

Apollonia bashfully hid her smile behind her plush doll. "Seven…I had a birthday two weeks ago," she murmured.

"Oh, really? That's great! Buon Compleanno!" the nation softly cheered and Apollonia's cheeks flushed. She settled her doll on her lap and she revealed her cute face to her guest. Romano compassionately looked to her and he spoke softly to her. "I came to see you because I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for how you were treated this afternoon."

Apollonia looked down to her doll and she hugged it tightly in her arms. Her little nose began to sniffle. She tried to hold back her tears, but they spilled down her cheeks nevertheless. Romano scooted closer to her. He wanted to comfort the child by hugging her, but he was not sure if she would like that. So he continued to converse with her in a loving, father-like tone. "Aww, darling…please don't cry. It's okay – " Suddenly, the little girl plopped her plush doll aside and she leaned over to weep onto Romano's side. The nation, without any hesitance, consoled Apollonia by wrapping his arms around her. He stroked her black, curly tresses and he tenderly whispered to her.

_"Shhh…it's okay, Apollonia…"_

Apollonia looked up to the nation and her little pout began to quiver. Romano was saddened to see how bloodshot her dark eyes had become and he reached over with his left hand to gently wipe away the tracks of her tears off of her cheeks. _"Shhh…no more tears, darling…no more tears,"_ he consoled, repeating the same lines that Spain would say to him when he was a child. To this very day, he _still_ would say these words to him whenever he became upset.

Apollonia rested her head against Romano's side. Her tears were slowly subsiding and her sniffling stopped. Romano waited a minute for her to collect herself. Finally, when he felt that she was ready to talk, he asked his question to her. "Has that little boy been mean to you before?"

"S-Si…" she sadly answered.

"Are there other children who are mean to you?"

"Si…a few…and _I hate them!_ I-I hate them _so much!_"

"Aww, sweetheart…you shouldn't say such things! You're too young to have hatred in your heart – "

"But it's true! I hate them all! Meanie heads!"

Romano let out a sigh. This was a very complicated situation. He wanted to give Apollonia the best advice, but he felt like such a hypocrite in doing so. Who was he to tell her not to hate anyone when he alone carried a fuming grudge against Germany? Perhaps his advice could prevent the little girl from becoming bitter and resentful like him. He surly did not want history to repeat itself. So, he continued to give his advice to Apollonia and he hoped to God that somehow he sounded as wise to her as he did for her father.

"I know that you're angry with them and you have every right to be, too. What that boy did to you was terrible. But…but you must find the courage to _forgive_ him and the other children who have picked on you. I have a feeling that those children don't realize how cruel their actions really are against you. They emulate what they've seen at home – "

"W-What does _emulate_ mean?" Apollonia shyly interrupted.

"It means that they're _copying_, sweetheart. They see their parents behaving this way and they copy them. They look up to them, just like how you and your brother look up to your parents. They may not know any better. That's why you need to forgive them. By doing this, you could change their ways."

"I-I could? But how?"

"By becoming their _friend_. By doing this, you'll make them realize that you're more than what they've been taught to think of you. Give them that chance, Apollonia."

The little girl folded her arms and she shook her head. "No! I don't want to! I have nothing in common with them!"

"Oh, but you do, honey! Why, you live in the same city and you go to the same school…you probably watch the same TV shows and enjoy eating the same food…I think that you may have more in common with them than you realize. But you'll never find out if neither side bothers to get to know one another."

"Fabrizio sings in the choir at Church with my brother," Apollonia softly admitted.

"Is that the little boy who slapped you?" Romano asked and the little girl nodded. The nation kindly smiled to her. "You see? You already know a little bit about him. That's something you have in common through your brother. Do you sing in the choir, too?"

"No…but I want to, South Italy…but…I don't…" Apollonia's sentence trailed off and she bit her bottom lip.

"Why not?" Romano inquired.

Apollonia released her grip onto her bottom lip and she sadly let out a sigh. "B-Because of Fabrizio…he'll make fun of me," she admitted.

"You shouldn't allow him or anyone to intimidate you. You have the right be in the choir just as much as he does! I bet you have a beautiful voice!" Romano said to encourage the child.

Apollonia nodded and a faint smile appeared on her face. "I do!" she cried.

Romano grinned to her. It touched him to see the little girl brighten up a bit. "You see? Both you and Fabrizio have something in common! You both like to sing! If you joined the choir, you both would get to know each other better. You may even become friends. Wouldn't you like for that to happen?"

Apollonia thought about this for a minute. She understood Romano's advice to her and she contemplated what it would be like to be Fabrizio's friend. It seemed to be an unrealistic thing to think about, especially under the awful circumstances between them. But what if Romano was right? What if they could find a way to forgive one another and to form a new friendship? As she thought about this, she gently leaned away from Romano to reach for her plush bunny rabbit. When she did this, she accidentally knocked her pillow onto the floor. As the pillow plopped onto the floor, the small bottle of Fair and Lovely stuck out underneath it. Then, the little girl finally answered the nation's question.

"I-I suppose I would," she said.

Romano did not pay attention to her brief answer. His eyes transfixed onto the bottle that was on the floor. He leaned forward to retrieve the bottle and he held it up so he could read the label. He was aghast when he realized that he was in possession of a skin whitening ointment. Surly, this was not a product that Apollonia's parents would willingly buy for her. He looked into her bloodshot eyes and he held up the bottle for her to see. "How did you get this?" he asked.

Apollonia turned her gaze away from the nation and she looked down to her plush doll. "My friend…s-she took it from her Mama," she admitted.

"Why would you want to have this?"

"Because…"

"That doesn't answer my question, Apollonia. Why do you have this?"

The little girl was afraid to look up to Romano. She did not want to be scolded by him. She sighed and he hugged her plush doll as she answered his question. Her own words were painful for her to say and her bloodshot eyes began watering up. "Because I want to be lighter," she confessed.

Romano was taken aback by the child's honesty. "W-Why would you want to be lighter?" he timidly asked.

Apollonia sighed again and she forced herself to answer the nation's question. "S-So I will be _p-pretty_," she said.

Romano was shocked by the child's answer. He sadly looked to Apollonia and he reached over to gently raise her head up so he could see her face. "Why would you say that?!" he gasped.

Apollonia's little nose began to sniffle again and she unhappily answered Romano as she looked at him. "B-Because I'm _ugly_," she confessed and tears began to run down her face again.

The child's reasoning crushed Romano and his heart sank. He could not believe that she would see herself as being unattractive. "Oh, Apollonia! You're not ugly at all!" he cried.

"Y-Yes, I am!" the little girl insisted and her eyes profusely watered up, "My hair is a giant poof! A-And my skin is so dark! I-I've tried using that stuff on my skin, but it's _never_ worked for me! I-I don't know why!" Apollonia cried and her sniffling turned into uncontrollable sobbing. Romano quickly glanced to the bottle and he flipped it to its backside. He read the expiration date and he could see that it was past due. This was why Apollonia's skin did not become lighter. It had lost its potency after passing its shelf age.

_'Oh, Thank God!'_ he thought and he sighed with relief. He slipped the bottle into his inner suit jacket pocket. He then turned his attention to Apollonia again and he lovingly embraced her. The little girl pressed her face against his chest and she sobbed. Romano could feel her tears seeping through the fabric of his white shirt and undershirt. "You're not ugly, sweetheart!" he said to her as he stroked her curly hair.

_"Yes, I am!" _Apollonia's muffled voice cried onto Romano's chest.

Romano sighed and he closed his eyes. He had not expected this to happen. This entire situation eerily hit too close to home for him, for he once felt the same way about himself when he was a child. As he stroked the little girl's hair, his memory reverted back to that unpleasant period and he recalled the lifelong lesson that was taught to him. This was something vitally important that needed to be shared with Apollonia. The nation opened his eyes. He gently pulled Apollonia away from his chest so he could look at her. Then, he began to speak.

"Apollonia, I want to share with you a story about _myself..._I want you to listen carefully to what I'm about to say, because there's a moral in the end. This moral implies to you…are you ready to listen?"

The little girl sniffled a bit and her tears slowly began to subside. She silently nodded to Romano and she stared intently to him. Romano took a deep breath and he began to tell his life story to her. "I used to think about myself the same way you're thinking about yourself…I used to not like my appearance, either."

"R-Really?"

"Si…you see, a long time ago, when I was a young boy, I had to live in Spain. I was a very young nation with no great power of my own yet. I was nothing more than a servant living in Spain's house – "

"Y-You were a _kid?!_" Apollonia gasped. She could not fathom the thought of the immortalized South Italy ever being her age.

Romano chuckled from her innocent question and he nodded. "Si, I was! It was _a long time ago!"_

"How long ago?"

"Almost five hundred years ago!"

Apollonia's little jaw dropped and she looked to Romano with awe. "Wow!" she gasped.

Romano's chuckling ceased and he continued where he left off in his story. "Anyway…when I began living in Spain, I wasn't liked that well by members of the Spanish Court – "

"How come?"

"Well…because I was an Italian…well, a _Southern_ Italian, to be more specific. They favored my brother Veneziano over me…they never wanted me because I lacked the grace and talents that my brother possessed. I was their_ greatest_ disappointment."

"Meanie heads!" Apollonia hissed and she crossed her arms, "They were wrong, South Italy! You're so _awesome!_" she cried.

Romano grinned to the little girl. He was flattered by her sweet compliment. "Aww! Grazie, honey! I'm glad you think so!" he said.

"Were there other reasons why they didn't like you?"

"Si…they didn't like me because I had a rather dark complexion when compared to their own and my brother's skin."

"W-Were you as dark as me?"

"No, sweetheart…but I could be if I wanted to. I'm an olive complexion like your mother, but I tan very easily if I'm out in the sunlight for a long time. That's what would happen to me during the summertime; I had outdoor chores that needed to be done. My usual chore was tending the tomato fields. It would take me hours to complete and because of this, my skin became very tanned. I thought I looked great! But to the standards of Spanish beauty of that time period, I was seen as _very unattractive._"

"D-Did they call you names?"

Romano sighed as he recalled the labels that the Spanish members of Court called him. "Si…they did," he hesitantly answered.

Apollonia looked down to her plush doll as she asked her blunt question to the nation. "Did they call you a Guinea?"

Romano was taken aback by the child's demeaning question. But it was a question that had to be acknowledged. "Please don't say that word anymore…but if you must know…then yes, they did…"

Apollonia quickly looked up to the nation with astonishment. She could not believe that he, South Italy, could ever be slandered by that terrible word. "W-What else did they call you?" she asked.

"Bad words, my dear," Romano said and he took a deep breath. He was trying not to become emotional. Then, he finished his sentence. "Bad words that should not be repeated in this room."

Apollonia looked down to her plush doll and she sniffled. She felt bad for Romano's sake that he was treated so poorly. "Meanie heads," she bitterly uttered.

"That's right…they _were_ meanie heads," Romano commented. Then, he continued his story to the child. "They were so mean to me when they called me names. They insulted me so much that eventually I began to _believe them_. I started to look at myself as being very ugly and worthless. So…I decided to make a change."

"W-What did you do?"

"I snuck into one of the Baronesses' bedrooms and I stole a large ivory container filled with foundation. It was makeup that members of Court wore to make their skin look even paler. I hid it in my servant quarters. I began to put it on my skin everyday. When I saw how I looked in the mirror, I began feeling good about myself again. I looked as white as my brother, Veneziano. I strongly believed that I was now fully attractive. I even began receiving complements from members of Court."

"What about Spain? Was he nice to you? Or was he a meanie head?"

Romano suddenly began to grin and he blushed as he thought about his beloved Spain. This made Apollonia curious as to why he was doing this. "Why are you blushing?" she asked.

"Oh…no reason, my dear," he kindly insisted, "To answer your question, Spain was very good to me. He was my Boss, you know. He was one of the _only_ members of his Court that really cared about me."

"Did he give you any complements about your appearance?"

Romano started to chuckle again and he shook his head. "No, he didn't! In fact, he was _horrified!"_ he said.

"How so?" asked the inquisitive little girl.

"Well, you see, Boss Spain had been away for a month on business. When he returned to Madrid, everyone had to line up outside the entrance to greet him. The Royal Court was lined together to the left side and the servants, including myself, were lined together to the right side. When Boss Spain's carriage pulled up and he stepped out, everyone bowed and curtsied to him. As he was walking past us, he spotted me. He saw how pale I looked and he began to panic! He thought that I was _deathly ill!_ So, he whisked me away and he ran to the closest bathroom!"

Apollonia started to giggle as she imagined the child size Romano being carried to the bathroom by Spain. Romano too was laughing as he remembered that moment: he could see himself cursing to Spain and beating his little fists against his chest. He could hear the frantic orders that Spain shouted to the maidservants to draw and boil some bathwater. He could even recall having Spain desperately taking off his headscarf, dress and shoes and dumping him into the steaming hot bathwater.

"So what happened?! What happened when he put you in the bathwater?!" Apollonia cried.

"When I was in the bathwater, my makeup started to wash off. Boss Spain took notice of this and he asked me why I was wearing makeup. I told him that it made me feel attractive. I told him how some members of Court were being mean to me. I told him how they made me feel ashamed of myself."

"What did he do?!"

Romano paused as he thought back on Spain's sudden actions. He smiled to Apollonia and he answered her. "He showed me something about himself that I never knew before. You see, I'd always seen him as being very pale. I thought that it was his natural skin color. But then, he cupped his hands into the bathwater and he washed his face. It turned out that he was wearing makeup, too and he revealed to me his natural skin color – he was tanned!"

"Really?!" Apollonia gasped.

"Si! In fact…I have a photo of him on my cellphone. Let me show you his image," Romano said as he reached inside his pant pocket. When he pulled out his smartphone, he quickly searched for the perfect photograph to show the little girl. When he finally found the photograph, he handed the cellphone to Apollonia. "This is Spain!" he happily said.

Apollonia gasped when she saw his gleaming image. His skin complexion was almost as dark as hers. "Wow! He looks like me!" she cried.

"Si! He does!" Romano commented. Apollonia handed the nation back his cellphone. As he slipped it into his pant pocket again, he continued his story. "When Spain showed me his natural face, I was absolutely stunned! I had no idea that he looked this way! I asked him why he wore makeup and he explained that it was fashionable. But from that moment on, he never put it on his face ever again. He wanted to set a good example for me after he gave me his advice."

"What did he say to you?!" Apollonia excitedly asked.

Romano could feel a sudden lump in his throat. He tried to ignore it and he willed himself from becoming emotional in front of the child. He looked directly into her bloodshot eyes and he told her the advice that was given to him by his partner. "He told me…that I was _beautiful_…just the way I was...and I shouldn't have to change anything about myself to make other people happy."

"Oooh," Apollonia awed.

Then, Romano reached over with both hands and he cupped the little girl's face. "That is the moral of the story and my sincere advice for you. You are beautiful, Apollonia…just the way you are!" he lovingly said.

The little girl's eyes widened and her cheeks blushed. "I…I am?" she innocently asked.

Romano smiled to her and he nodded. "Si! You are! Everything about you is uniquely 'Apollonia!' Your black, curly hair! Your caramel skin tone! Your lovely black eyes! You're so beautiful, sweetheart!"

Apollonia's cheeks blushed profusely after being told by her nation how attractive she really was. Her small lips formed a radiant grin and she happily looked up to Romano. "A-am I really beautiful?" she asked again.

"Si, you are! Why don't you believe me, honey?" Romano kindly asked. He then looked around her bedroom to see if there was a mirror. When he could not spot one out, he looked to Apollonia. "Do you have a mirror in your room?" he asked. The little girl pointed over to her child-size vanity. Romano slowly got up from the bed and he walked over to it. He noticed that the mirror was flipped over, so he flipped it back to the way it was supposed to be. He looked back to Apollonia and he gestured her with his arm to come to his side. "Come here, Apollonia," he said.

Apollonia got off of her bed and she walked up to the nation. Romano pulled out the vanity chair and he gestured her to sit on it. Reluctantly, she obeyed and she sat down. Romano knelt down beside her and he looked at her reflection. He noticed immediately that Apollonia would not look at her image. "Look into the mirror, honey, so you could see how beautiful you are!" he said in an encouraging tone.

Apollonia hesitantly looked up to see her reflection. When she did, however, she instantaneously began to judge and nit-pick about herself in her head. She frowned and looked down to her lap. Romano noticed her behavior and he smiled to her. "Don't look away, sweetie…don't think about those cruel names that the children have labeled you. Shake them off! Remember how you used to see yourself before you came to Perugia."

The little girl looked to him and she nodded. Then, Romano placed his hand onto her left shoulder and he spoke to her. "Now look into the mirror again and tell me what you see!"

Apollonia looked back to her image reflected from the mirror. She forgot the derogatory words that were said to her. For the first time in months, she was seeing herself as she truly was – a beautiful little girl. Her eyes lit up and she grinned to her image. "I-It's me! I-I _am _beautiful!"

Romano chuckled by her enthusiasm and he nodded. "That's what I've been telling you! I'm just so glad that you could finally see it for yourself!" Apollonia looked to him and she wrapped her arms around his neck. She tightly embraced him and she happily giggled in his arms. Romano lovingly held onto her and his eyes were becoming moist. He was so relieved that he was able to help her. After they embraced, Apollonia suddenly darted to her bedroom door. "MAMA! PAPA!" she gleefully shouted and she ran out of the room. Romano stood himself up and he rushed up behind her.

Downstairs, both of Apollonia's parents and her brother looked over to the staircase. When the little came running down the stairs, her parents stood themselves up. Apollonia rushed up to them and she hugged their legs. "MAMA! PAPA! GUESS WHAT!"

"W-What is it, darling?!" asked Mr. Giordano, who was completely stunned by his daughter's joyous behavior.

Apollonia looked up to her parents and she giggled. "I'M BEAUTIFUL! JUST THE WAY I AM!" she shouted and she hugged her parents' legs even tighter. Suddenly, both of her parents knelt down to her level and they lovingly embraced their young daughter.

"Si! You are, Apollonia! You are beautiful, my sweet little Angel!" cried Mrs. Giordano and both she and her husband repeatedly kissed her face. Her brother, Martino, squeezed himself in-between her parents so he could hug her as well. While this was happening, Mrs. Giordano looked over to the staircase. She could see Romano standing on the middle steps, silently observing her family bonding together. Her green eyes watered up and her trembling lips formed a grateful smile. Romano smiled to her as well and he winked.

After a few moments, the parents released their hold on their daughter. Mrs. Giordano wiped her own eyes and she stood herself up. "A-Are you two ready to have lunch?" she softly asked. Both of her children nodded and smiled up to her. Mrs. Giordano grinned and she gestured the to the first level bathroom. "Go wash yourselves up while I set the table!" The children obeyed their mother and they ran to the other side of the house. When they were out of sight, both Mr. and Mrs. Giordano walked up to Romano. As he descended down the stairs, he was bombarded with kisses from Mrs. Giordano. "Oh, grazie, Romano! Grazie!" she cried.

Romano's face blushed deeply after being kissed. "O-Oh, it was nothing, Mrs. Giordano!" he kindly insisted.

"It was _nothing? _Why, look at how much she's changed! You're a miracle worker!" cried Mr. Giordano.

"Si! You've made her so happy! You've made her feel like a Queen!" said Mrs. Giordano.

Romano reached over to grab Mrs. Giordano's right hand. As he held it, he brought it up to his lips and he kissed it. "All women are Queens, Signora. They just need to be reminded once in a while," he said with such charisma to his tone.

"Oh, South Italy! You're such a charmer!" Mrs. Giordano said and her face turned beet red with embarrassment.

"Please stay over to have lunch with us! I insist!" said Mr. Giordano as he shook the nation's hand.

"Oh, I don't know…I don't want to impose," Romano responded. Suddenly, both husband and wife egged him on to reconsider having lunch with them.

"You're not imposing at all, South Italy!"

"Please stay to break bread with us! I insist!"

"And so do I!"

Romano smiled to them and he accepted their invitation. "Grazie! I'll be glad to have lunch here! But before I do, I must go back to the Square to bring my brother back here! He's been waiting for me!"

"That's fine, South Italy! I hope that he's hungry, too! I've made a bountiful feast! There's plenty of food for everyone to enjoy!" said Mrs. Giordano.

Romano excused himself from Mr. and Mrs. Giordano and he walked up to the front door. As he gripped the handle, he sudden realization came to him in his mind. He recalled how the Perugian citizens wanted to throw a feast for himself and his brother. But after all the tragic circumstances had occurred, these plans were quickly abandoned…until now.

"That's it," he said and he turned around to look at The Giordanos, "That's exactly what this city needs!"

"Needs what, South Italy?" asked Mr. Giordano.

"We need to have a get-together tonight at the Square! You know how everyone was planning a feast? We need to go along with it, despite what happened earlier today!"

"B-But…what if nobody wants to attend?" asked Mrs. Giordano.

Romano smiled to her and he answered her question. "Don't worry, Signora! If there's one thing I know well about mortal beings is that they've never turned down free food! If we do this, I believe that we could finally heal Perugia and have both Northern and Southern Italians put away their differences! I'm determined to leave this great city united, not divided!"

"What an excellent idea, South Italy! I swear, you are indeed a great sage!" cried Mr. Giorndano.

Romano's face blushed even deeper after being labeled a sage by the father yet again. "I-If you say so!" he shyly answered. He then opened the front door and as he stepped outside, he looked back to the married couple. "Go ahead and begin eating without me! I'll be back soon with Veneziano!"

"Whatever you say, South Italy! Take your time!" said Mrs. Giorndano and Romano began to run down the street. Both she and her husband looked to one another and they lovingly kissed each other on the lips. They were so happy that Romano was able to help their daughter. Mrs. Giorndano truly believed that her prayers had been answered. She gave her thanks to God and she sighed with relief. Now that the healing process was beginning in their home, she had optimism that their city will be transformed as well with the help of their great nation.

* * *

Outside of The Giorndano's house sat Frankie and Spain. The young tour guide had finished explaining everything to the nation in his native language. He also informed him about Romano's party plans for tonight. Spain was overwhelmed with emotion after he was aware that Romano was able to help Apollonia. He was touched that his advice to Romano was a key contribution into helping the little girl. He had long forgotten that incident until now. His mind became flooded with vivid memories of himself holding Chibi Romano in his arms after he had accepted how beautiful he was. It was a touching memory that was now burning inside his head.

Spain wiped away his tears and he looked to Frankie with gratefulness. "Gracias, Frankie, for everything!" he said.

"De nada!" said the tour guide and he grinned to the nation. "Glad I could help!"

"Hey…do you think that it would be all right if you stuck around with me and my pal for the rest of the day? Otherwise, we'll be lost in translation without you!"

"Sure! Not a problem! I'm thrilled to help you! I'm honored to be in your presence, Spain!"

"¡Aww, Gracias!," Spain exclaimed and both men stood up. Frankie nudged him to follow him to an alternate route that would lead them back to the fountain. As they hopped over the wooden fence, Frankie continued talking to him. "I really hope that you and Germany figure out this 'family' the two Italies visit every weekend! What a great mystery you have to solve!"

"Si…I hope so, too! I'd like to meet them, if I could."

"Hey! Are you hungry? I'm starved! My cousin has a restaurant in town! Would you and Germany be interested in dining there for lunch?"

"Sure! Sounds great! ¡Gracias!"

"Awesome! Follow me!" Frankie insisted and he went down a narrow alley. As Frankie led him down the alternate route, Spain's memories of himself with Chibi Romano came flooding back in his mind. He began to daydream while he was walking with his new companion. He vividly recalled the moment when he swore to Chibi Romano to protect him from being bullied by members of Court. As he remembered this, his emerald eyes watered up. He was proud of himself for making such a promise and he was grateful that after all these centuries, he has continued to fulfill his oath to Romano. He knew that he was well grown up now to defend himself against his enemies. But nevertheless, Spain would continue to be there, just in case.

* * *

_"I promise you, tomate, that you'll never be harmed in any way ever again. I will always be your shield."_

_"B-But that's impossible! You can't promise something like that, you bastard! It's still going to happen no matter what!"_

_"No, it won't. I swear to you that it won't ever happen again. I will always protect you from harm's way for as long as you shall live. Even if it costs my life."_

_"B-But I'm not worth it!"_

_"Yes, you are, sweetheart! You are worth it!"_

_"Why?! Why am I worth it?!"_

_"Because I love you, Lovino. That's why."_

* * *

_.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°_


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

**Author's Note:** UGGH! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for the late update! I got distracted by the holidays and unfortunately, I fell ill to strep throat right on New Year's Day. I'm still feeling terribly sick from the bacteria infection and the reactions to my antibiotics. Nevertheless, I forced myself to get this chapter completed. I always feel bad for having everyone waiting for the next installment. Thank you for your patience! I really appreciate it!

I'd like to make a quick shoutout to one of my readers, Aerodiety. I want to thank you for the wonderful reviews that you've left for my story! For some reason, I'm not able to PM you, so I wanted to acknowledge you this way. I'm tickled that you really enjoy the interactions between Germany and Spain! Thank you for finding my story interesting! :D

I was going to have the party scene included with this chapter. But this chapter became very long so I decided to write the next scene in Chapter 13. I feel sort of bad for dragging this day so long, but everything that I wrote for Chapter 12 is pretty important. If you read in-between the lines, you'll see hints of upcoming scenarios for future chapters. Another reason why I'll be writing the party scene for Chapter 13 is because I need to write up lyrics for the song that the Italy Brothers will be singing! (lol spoilers). If I have time, I'll be composing music to go along with the lyrics. We'll see what happens!

Thank you! Onward to Chapter 12!

* * *

"VENEZIANO! VENEZIANO!" Romano happily shouted as he ran past the Fontana Maggiore. Italy immediately stood up from the park bench and he rushed up to be by Romano's side. As the brothers met halfway, they lovingly embraced one another and kissed each other's cheeks. "V-Veneziano! I-I'm sorry…f-for holding you up!" he gasped as he began to catch his breath.

Italy tenderly held onto Romano's hands and he grinned at him. "That's all right, Roma! How did everything go?"

"It went well, fratello! Apollonia is beginning to feel so much better!"

Italy grinned to his older brother and he suddenly embraced him again. "Oh, that's wonderful! I'm so relieved!"

"Me too! I was worried that I couldn't help her. But everything turned out for the best!" Romano responded as he held Italy closely in his arms. His breathing finally relaxed and his ancient heart ceased palpitating after his long sprint from the Giordano household.

Italy became ecstatic after he was informed about the good news. "Thank God! I'm so happy for both of you! I knew you could do it, Roma! I'm so _proud_ of you!"

Romano's face blushed profusely after being complimented. He gently pulled his brother away from himself so that he could see his face. "I-I really didn't do anything special…I just t-talked to her, that's a-all," he nervously stammered.

"Nonsense! I know that you've done more than just talked with her – you've connected with her. Only you could have consoled her because…well, you've been in her shoes. There's no way that I would've been of any help to her."

"I-I suppose you're right. I did connect with her…and my own life experiences really helped me to give my advice to her. Looking back now, I don't know how I did it! It all seemed so effortless…I-I'm usually not good in these type of situations as you are…you're better than me when it comes to being compassionate to others – "

"Roma, you're just as compassionate as I am, if not, even _more_ than I am. When you let your guard down once in a while, you really exhibit your greatest qualities. Don't you dare try to dispute me! I know you so well like the back of my hand…we're _brothers, _after all!"

"Ay, Veneziano! Q-Quit embarrassing me! Damn it!" Romano hissed under his breath as his face beamed crimson. He clenches his eyes tightly shut and he frowned as Italy leaned in closely to give him a sweet, platonic kiss on his lips. Romano's eyebrows twitched and he opened one eye to look at his brother. Italy grinned at him and he petted his brother's trembling hands. Romano opened both eyes and a small smile curled on his blushing face. He leaned in closely to Italy and he returned the loving gesture of kissing his lips.

"Veeee~!" Italy softly awed.

Romano quietly chuckled and his smile turned into a radiant grin. "Grazie, fratello…for believing in me," he murmured.

"Prego (You're welcome)," Italy answered.

Suddenly, the sounding of the church's clock tower interrupted their bonding. The church bells rang a melody and announced the time with the bellowing sound of two deep, prominent ringing of an individual bell.

Italy looked up to the clock tower and he gasped. "Oh, Mio Dio! It's already two o'clock!"

"Oh, no," Romano sighed and he face-palmed himself, "I totally forgot that The Giordanos are expecting us to return to their home! I hope you don't mind, but I've accepted their invitation for lunch."

"That's great! It's not a problem at all!" Italy happily answered.

"A-Are you sure? Because I remember how adamant you were about leaving."

"I'm okay now. My temper's subsided while I was waiting for you. I'm not ready to leave yet. Besides, I'm _starving!_ My stomach's been grumbling ever since my migraine went away."

"You were suffering with a migraine?! Oh, Veneziano! I feel so bad now! I'm sorry for leaving you alone!" Romano sadly uttered and he leaned forward to kiss Italy's forehead.

Italy suddenly became giddy and he excitedly looked to his brother. "I wasn't _really_ alone, Roma! You won't believe what happened to me while I was waiting for you! I was in so much pain that I prayed to God to help me – and He did!"

"W-What do you mean?" Romano asked in a perplexed tone.

"What I mean is…is…well, look!" Italy cried and he led Romano by the hand toward the park bench. When the nations stepped up to the bench, Italy released his grip on his brother's hand and he quickly retrieved the water bottle and the opened box of migraine medication. "These things came out of nowhere after I prayed to God! Isn't it amazing?!" Italy merrily asked.

Romano arched an eyebrow to his brother and he smirked. He really wanted to believe him, but this situation seemed a little too farfetched for him to accept. "Are you _sure_, honey? Maybe somebody noticed that you were suffering and they anonymously left it by your side," he rationally explained.

"No, Roma! I swear to God that nobody was around! I was alone! Nobody's been here since I lost my temper with everybody! Look around you! The Square is still empty and we're by ourselves!" Italy feverishly insisted.

Romano observed their surroundings and he suddenly realized that his brother was correct: the Square was eerily vacant. He looked back to Italy fully convinced that a miracle had occurred. "Forgive me, Veneziano! I didn't mean to doubt your word!" he said as he formed the Sign of the Cross with his right hand.

"It's okay! I still can't believe it myself!" Italy kindly answered as he, too, signed himself.

"What _good luck_ we have on our side today! We're going to need more of it after we've had lunch," Romano said as he linked his left arm to Italy's right arm.

"W-Whatever for, Roma?" Italy curiously asked.

Romano started to lead his brother to the direction they would need to walk toward the Giordano household. While they were walking, he reached over to take Italy's water bottle so he could hold it on his behalf. "I have a plan up my sleeve…in regards to reuniting Perugia."

"You do?! What is it?!" Italy eagerly petitioned.

"Well, I'm hoping that you and I will be able to end the feuding between our citizens by throwing a party at the Square tonight."

Italy's fair face beamed with gleefulness and he clung onto Romano's arm. "That's a wonderful idea! What better way to have them put away their differences than with delicious home cooked meals, live music and festive dancing!"

"And the _wine!_ Don't forget the _wine!_" Romano insisted.

Italy expressed some light-hearted chuckling and he smiled to his brother. But then, a sudden dilemma came up inside his mind. His laughter subsided and he looked to Romano with concern. "Fratello…how are we going to get everyone to attend?"

"Well, we could…umm…well…I don't know," Romano admitted.

Italy turned his gaze away from Romano and he sighed. "What if nobody wants to come? Why would they even want to after the way I treated them? I fear that I may have already jinxed your plans."

Suddenly, Romano stopped walking. He settled the water bottle onto the ground and he brought his arm away from Italy's embrace. He tenderly placed his hands onto Italy's shoulders and he looked to him as he spoke. "Don't feel bad for scolding our citizens. They _deserved_ it. Their behavior was deplorable. Nevertheless, I believe that they'll want to participate with the party tonight for _our sakes._ They'll want to try to please us…and when they come, you and I will get everyone to peacefully break bread with us. Don't worry, fratello! It hasn't become a hopeless cause – we haven't even begun yet!"

Italy smiled to his brother and he nodded in agreement. "You're right! I shouldn't have any doubt! We can do this!" he cried.

"Si! And it will be marvelous!" Romano concurred and he linked his arm with Italy's arm again. He reached down to retrieve the water bottle and then both men continued their walk down the vacant street. "Now we just have to figure out how to tell everybody about our plans."

Italy silently pondered to himself various ideas to solve this situation. When one idea came up in his head, he looked to Romano and he gently tugged at his suit sleeve. "I know! We can tell everybody _ourselves!_ We'll go door-to-door! Well, we won't go to every single household, of course…that would take forever! But maybe the citizens that we do converse with could help spread the word on our behalf by calling up their friends or even using social media to make the message go viral!"

Romano grinned to his brother and he unlatched his arm so he could wrap it over Italy's shoulders. "Ay, Veneziano! You're a _genius! _What a great idea!" he exclaimed.

Italy's face blushed and he leaned in closely to Romano's side. "I'm glad that you think so!" he bashfully answered.

"We'll begin our mission after lunch! Should we be together or should we split up?"

"I think that splitting up would be the best. That way, we can get things done at a quicker pace."

"Right. The faster we converse with our citizens, the sooner we could go back to The Giordanos to help prepare our dishes for the feast. I think I'll make my Neapolitan pizza. It's one of the only good meals that I can make without really screwing it up."

"Aww, Roma! You're a decent chef! Sometimes, your cooking abilities can be rather questionable. But honestly, your food doesn't taste _that_ bad. It's _nothing_ like _Arthur's cooking_, I assure you!" Italy playfully teased and he nudged his brother with his elbow.

Romano violently flinched from the sheer mention of England's name. "Mio Dio! _Never_ compare my cooking to England's, you bastard! That's just fucking _cruel!_" he angrily protested.

"Aww! I'm sorry!" Italy kindly answered and he gave a quick peck onto Romano's left cheek. Romano stubbornly pouted and he looked away from his younger brother. He expressed a deep _hmmph _and he started to sarcastically criticize him. "I wonder what kind of dish _you'll _be making? Oh, let me guess – PAAASSSTTTAAA!"

Italy suddenly launched into laughter after hearing Romano's impersonation of himself. He was completely oblivious to the fact that his brother was actually mocking him. "Si! What else would I make?! Perhaps I'll cook up a pot of spaghetti! Or maybe a giant loaf of lasagna! Oh! Or maybe instead I'll prepare some ravioli or even tortellini with shrimp! – "

"CHIGI! Will you stop it?! You're making my hunger worsen!" Romano whined and his empty stomach started to loudly grumble in protest. Italy's own empty stomach began to grumble as well and the Italy Brothers groaned with anticipation for their upcoming lunch.

"How much farther do we have to walk, Roma?"

"We still have quite a long way to go."

"Lets run the rest of the way! _Please?_ I'm so hungry! I can't bear to wait another minute!"

Romano nodded and he grinned. "All right then! Lets go!" he exclaimed and both men began to run down the street arm-in-arm toward their destination. While they were running, they dashed past the exact alleyway where Germany's vehicle, the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen was parked. Neither one took notice of it. However, a crowd of tourists and some young Perugian citizens _did notice_ it and they were standing around it taking photographs with their smartphones and tablet computers.

"Look at the bullets riddled into the steel! It must be from the war!"

"Extraordinary vehicle! I wonder if the owner will want to sell it?"

"Holy shit! I'm so putting this pic on Reddit!"

"Instagram it for a vintage effect!"

"Hey, kids! Sit inside the car! I'll take a photo!"

The crowd took their digital photographs and they started to post them on the Internet. None of them could ever realize that some of their photographs would suddenly become viral. This innocent act of sharing about this unusual vehicle and its current location could only bring terrible implications to both Germany and Spain in the future.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Remember _this_ little hint for Chapter 14!

* * *

Back at the Square, Germany was cautiously peering behind the building where he was hiding. He had silently witnessed the intimate conversation between the Italy Brothers and their eventual departure. Sadly, he was unable to understand a single word they had said to one another. The nation was becoming very impatient now for having to wait for Spain's return. "He's been gone forever! Where the hell is he?!" he complained.

At this very moment, both Spain and Frankie came up walking behind Germany from the alternate route they had taken. Spain rushed up behind the nation and he leaned in closely to his backside. "HEY! WE'RE BACK!" he happily shouted.

"G-G-GOTT!" Germany screamed and he dramatically backed away from Spain. He jeered at him for being rudely startled and his face redden from boiling rage. "SCHEIßE! WHAT THE HELL, SPAIN?! ARE YOU TRYING TO GIVE ME A HEART ATTACK?!" he angrily shouted.

Spain shook his head and he playfully teased him. "Oh, please! You're giving _yourself _a heart attack with that damn temper of yours! Calm down, man! Sheesh!"

"I will NOT calm down! You don't just sneak up behind somebody like that! UGGGH! Sometimes, you get on my last fucking nerve – "

"Mio Dio! You were right, Spain – Germany _is_ uptight!" scoffed the young tour guide who stood behind both nations.

Germany angrily looked to Frankie and he pointed his index finger to him. "Hey! You stay out of this!" he commanded.

"No way! I'm totally invested right now!" Frankie said and he folded his arms in front of his chest.

Germany growled at the teenager and his pointing hand started to violently tremble. "Don't disrespect me, kid! You don't know anything about me!"

"Oh, I know_ plenty _about you from _history class! _Lets just say that you're living up to your reputation right now! What a hot head!" Frankie stubbornly stated. As Germany was about to lunge toward the tour guide, Spain got in between the two and prevented them from getting into a physical altercation.

"Woah! Woah! Stop it, you guys! That's enough!" Spain cried and he hurriedly flapped his arms up and down. Both Germany and Frankie sighed and they reluctantly obeyed Spain's demands. Spain grinned to both of them and he suddenly placed his arms over their shoulders and physically pushed them closer to himself. "There we go! See? We're getting along so well! Let me introduce you to each other – Germany, this is Frankie the tour guide! Frankie, this is Germany!"

"Uh, Guten Tag," Germany muttered and he extended his hand out to the teenager.

"Ciao," Frankie answered and he reached over to grip on Germany's hand. Both men briefly shook and then brought their hands back to their sides. Spain started to laugh and he forcefully brought Germany and Frankie close into his own embrace. "¡Muy Bein! Now we're best buddies!" he happily cried.

"Mmmph! L-Let go of me!" Germany cried onto Spain's chest.

"Eh! Gaaah!" Frankie struggled to say as he tried to push himself away from the two nations. Then, Spain released his hold onto them. Both men fussed on themselves as they tried to straighten up their clothes and fix their messed up hair.

"So, uh…were you able to assist Spain?" Germany asked the tour guide as he carefully patted his gelled blond hair in place.

"Si. I translated everything on his behalf without any trouble," Frankie responded as he tugged on his white shirt.

"Is everything okay now with that little girl?"

"Si, she was consoled by South Italy. He did an excellent job, too! He gave the child very touching advice! He's such a good man!"

Germany suddenly let out a brief chuckle as he found it unbelievable that Romano could ever be capable of expressing empathy. "Heh…hard to believe…I never knew he had it in him," he misjudged.

Spain gave a look of surprise to Germany and he nudged him with his elbow. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked in a puzzling tone.

"Er, what I meant was…well, I didn't think that Romano could…uh – "

"Be sensitive?" Spain interrupted. Germany was taken aback by the nation's question. Spain's smile diminished as he began to calmly rebuke Germany's opinion about his partner. "If only you knew how compassionate he really was; you wouldn't be saying such a stupid comment! He is such a _sweet_ and _kind_ man, Ludwig, and he always has consideration for others, _especially_ women."

"H-He does?" Germany stammered.

"¡Si! I know you find that hard to believe. I know how cold and reserved he is around you. He's like this with some people because he has hang-ups and he puts up a barrier to protect himself. It's a sort of defense mechanism he does because he's been screwed over one too many times. But when he puts down that barrier and you get to see who he _really _is…its absolutely wonderful! He's more similar to his _brother_ than you could ever realize!"

"He…H-He is?" Germany asked with disbelief. He could not imagine Romano being anything like Italy.

"Si! Of course he is! They're twins, aren't they? Don't they share the same flesh and blood? How could they _not_ be alike?" Spain harshly stated.

Germany bit his bottom lip. He casted his blue eyes away from Spain's penetrating stare. Being put on the spot about Romano made him feel really uncomfortable, especially with a stranger standing amongst them. _'I should have kept my opinion to myself,'_ he thought in his mind.

Spain took notice of Germany's body language and how intimidated he had become. A small smile appeared on his face and he gently placed his hand onto the nation's shoulder. Germany slowly looked up to Spain and both nations made eye contact. Finally, Spain concluded his defensive viewpoint about his beloved. "Please don't think calloused thoughts about Lovi. Just because you've never witnessed his noble side doesn't mean that he's incapable of expressing himself this way."

Germany silently nodded to Spain and his eyes downcast from his stare. For the first time ever, he genuinely felt ashamed for casting aspersions upon Romano. He should have known better than to do this, especially in front of Spain. He was his partner and his best friend. Of course he would immediately be offended by such a sarcastic opinion about the one he loved. Germany realized that, in a way, he really had no right to judge Romano at all. He _hardly_ knew anything about him. They had _never_ been friends. However, there were moments in their past that suggested that a friendship between them _could_ have blossomed. But unfortunately, the outbreak of World War II prevented what could have been.

All three men could sense the thickening tension surrounding them and Spain decided that it was time to lighten up the mood. He forced himself to express a giggle and his lips formed a convincing smile. "Now enough of this palaver! Lets get something to eat! Where's your cousin's restaurant, Frankie?"

"Uh, it's just a couple of blocks that way," the teenager softly answered as he pointed down a vacant street. "Follow me," he said as he gestured his arm and he began to walk ahead of the nations.

Both Germany and Spain walked side by side but neither one interacted with one another. Germany kept his gaze downward to the cobbled ground whereas Spain looked around their surroundings and pretending to care at what he saw. Germany wanted to converse with his friend, but he was too shamefaced to even _look up_ to him. Spain wanted to talk to him as well, but he could see how obviously embarrassed Germany appeared to him. Nevertheless, he decided to start a casual conversation with his friend just so their silence between them could end.

"Eh-heh! Boy, I can't wait to try the food! I-I'm sure everything will taste delicious!" he happily said. His emerald eyes sparkled as he stared toward the nation. He had expected for him to give a response. But instead, Germany continued to look away. Spain's smile slowly began to fade. He was becoming disappointed by the lack of interaction. Surly, this could not continue any longer. Just this brief silence between them made the nation feel lonesome. Spain had to do something about this, and so he did by doing what Germany did not particularly like – he wrapped his arm around him.

Germany flinched by the physical contact that Spain bestowed upon him. His muscles tensed up and his heart palpitated. Having the nation embracing him like this forced him to acknowledge his presence. He really did not want to talk to him. He felt unworthy to experience Spain's companionship. Germany sighed and he continued to stubbornly look away from his friend's stare.

"You must be starving, Ludwig! What do you think you'll be eating for lunch?"

Germany bit his bottom lip. He felt so pressured to converse with Spain. He timidly tilted his head to briefly stare at the nation's sun kissed face. Spain's smile increased somewhat when he noticed Germany's attempt to look at him. Finally, Germany broke his silence and he answered his friend in a deep, hushed tone.

"I-I don't know."

Just these three miniscule words caused Spain's smile to increase into an exciting grin. He was relieved that Germany was beginning to respond. "I'm sure you'll figure out what you'll want when you see the menu. I wonder if the food at the restaurant will live up to your standards? You must be used to Italy's home cooking; he's a fantastic chef! He must feed you well!"

"Uh, ja…he does," Germany quietly responded. Then, his blond eyebrows were starting to tremble and his serious expression softened and showed hints of remorse. "I-I'm sorry, Antonio…about everything – "

"Aww, don't worry about it. I'm not _that_ pissed at you," Spain softly answered.

"Y-You're not?"

"No, I'm not. But don't get me wrong; I do get upset when people have misinterpretations about my precious Lovi. I wish that you could see what I see behind closed doors. I wish for once that you could have a glimpse of his _humanity._"

"I sort of have been seeing a different side to him during our _misadventures _together," Germany said with slight amusement to his tone of voice.

Spain suddenly let out a giggle and his cheeks blushed. "Misadventures, eh? I'd like to think of our outings together as being_ thrilling_ and _epic!_"

"Ha! You really think that?"

"For sure! Everything we've been through so far has been amazing!"

"Well…I suppose you're right about that…" Germany trailed off and he softly chuckled. When it subsided, he concluded his aspirations for wanting to know Romano. "Perhaps…during our _thrilling adventures_ together, I will finally get to witness the side of Romano that you've only been graced to see in the privacy of your home."

"I think that you will!" Spain happily answered and he embraced his friend closely to his side. "And when you do, I hope it'll change your opinion about him. I've been hoping after all these years that things between both of you would change. I've been waiting for the day when you and him will forgive one another...and finally become good friends."

Germany's heart sank after hearing Spain's aspirations of reconciliation between himself and Romano. "I-I've always wanted to bury the hatchet. It's _he_ who won't make the effort."

"Si, I know. My Lovi can be stubborn as a mule. But I believe a change will come soon between you two…I don't know why I'm saying this, but I can just feel it in my gut that somehow your vendetta will soon be coming to an end."

"I hope that you're right, Antonio," Germany said with a hint of sadness to his tone.

"Me too," Spain uttered and he slowly started to bring his arm away from Germany's back. However, while he was doing this, Germany nudged him not to pull away. He wanted him to continue to embrace him. So, Spain plopped his arm around his friend again. Germany returned the gesture by wrapping his muscular arm around Spain's lean waist. Both nations kindly smiled to one another and they walked together with a sense of their camaraderie strongly rekindled.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The vendetta between Germany and Romano will be fully explained in Chapter 15.

* * *

_ "Mmmm! Ohhhh! Ermahgerd! This food…*gasp*…this food tastes SOOO good!" _Spain enthusiastically cried with his mouth overstuffed with spaghetti and meatballs. Frankie was highly amused by the nation's praise of his family's food, whereas Germany was turned off by his friend's sloppy eating habits. He twirled his fork into his large serving of pasta with pesto sauce and he tried to ignore Spain's orgasmic moaning over his lunch.

"I'm glad that you like it! It's my great-great grandmother's recipe!" Frankie said and he scooped his spoon into his bowl of orecchiette.

"Which side of Italy does your family originate? The North or the South?" Germany asked the young tour guide.

"My family is from the South. I have Sicilian roots," Frankie answered and he brought his spoon to his lips and nomed the ear-shaped pasta and peas into his mouth.

"Ah," Germany uttered and he took a huge bite of his pasta. While he was chewing his food, he turned his head at different angles and stared at the ethnic interior decorating of the restaurant. Everything adorning the walls and tables was pure Italiana. As he looked to one adjacent wall, he swallowed his food and gasped when he noticed a picture frame hanging with a beautiful ribbon bow-tied above it. The ribbon was pinstriped and showed the colors of the Italian flag. The picture frame enclosed two colored headshot photographs of the Italy Brothers. Below their image was a gold-leaf inscription, which read _Viva Italia!_ (Long Live Italy!)

"Well, I'll be damned! Hey, Antonio! Look over there!" Germany said and he gestured to the picture frame. Spain slurped up his spaghetti and he cocked his head to where his friend was pointing. When he saw the Italy Brothers' images, he immediately swallowed his food and he grinned "Hey! It's our _lovelies!_" he happily cried.

Suddenly, Germany became panic-stricken from Spain's choice of words. He hoped that the tour guide had not overhead what he had said. The nation angrily hushed at Spain and he frowned with disapproval. "SHHH!"

Frankie grabbed his glass of wine and he was about to bring it to his lips until he listened to Spain's sincere comment. He held his glass midway and he looked to both the nations. "_Your lovelies?_ Who? You mean…_them?_" he curiously asked.

"Oh, Gott," Germany anxiously murmured and he face-palmed himself. He was becoming very upset. He did not want to be accidentally outed in front of the teenager. He brought his hand away so he could glimpse at Spain. _'Don't say anything!'_ he thought in his head, _'don't you dare say anything to him – '_

"¡Si! Lovi is my partner! You know him as South Italy! And Feliciano is Germany's – "

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Germany shouted and he pounded his fists onto the table. His face flushed from both resentment and embarrassment after Spain's blunt response.

Spain innocently stared to his friend. "What? I'm just telling him the truth. What's wrong with that? I've got nothing to hide!"

"H-He doesn't need to know _everything!_" Germany cried and he rested his head onto his hands.

Frankie looked to both nations and a smirk curled on his face. "Oooh! I _get it_ now!" he slyly said.

Germany dreadfully groaned. He was so private about his personal life and to have this stranger knowing about his business made him feel vulnerable. He clenched his eyes shut and he began wishing for himself to disappear from the table.

Frankie let out a chuckle and he took a quick sip of his wine. Afterwards, he set his glass onto the table and he looked to Germany. "Don't stress out about it. Your relationships don't bother me," he said.

Germany slowly raised his head up so he could look at the tour guide. "I-It doesn't?" he softly asked.

"Nah! Why should it? It's no skin off my nose. Love is love! Your secrets' are safe with me."

Spain grinned to the tour guide and then to his friend. "_See?_ He doesn't care! How awesome is that?!" he gloated.

"Uh…it's reassuring, that's for sure," Germany admitted.

"Now hold on just a moment!" Frankie insisted as he gestured his hands, "Just because_ I_ don't have a problem with it doesn't mean that everyone else won't. Remember, this is _Catholic_ territory. My people are _very conservative._ So be careful what you say for now on. Capisce?" (Understand?)

Both nations nodded and answered the teenaged boy. "Capisce!" they said in unison.

"Good! Bravo! I'm glad that's settled! You know, it makes perfect sense to me now why you two are spying on North and South Italy. What do you think they're trying to hide – "

"Wait a minute," Germany interrupted and he gawked to Spain in utter shock, "You _told him_?!" he barked.

"Eh-heh!" Spain nervously laughed and he nodded, "I, uh…may have shared some details with him about our mission!"

"Verdamnt! How could you do this?! Did you tell him that we're _wanted_ by the police, too?!"

Frankie's jaw suddenly dropped and he eagerly looked to both the nations. "Holy shit! You guys are _wanted?!_" he gasped.

Germany violently flinched and he face-palmed himself once more. "Oh, Gott!" he regretfully uttered. Meanwhile, Spain glared over to him and he mockingly smirked. "PFFT! Good going, _stupid!_" he sarcastically hissed.

"So what happened?! Why are the cops pursuing you?!" Frankie cried.

"Uh, well…I don't think we're actually being pursued. We kind of got ourselves into trouble in a small town in Tuscany," Germany answered while his hand was still clasped onto his face.

"Si, we uh…well…we were spying on the Italies at some family's estate and we got caught! We were chased down and we drove through somebody's vineyard! We also drove off a cliff! Eh-heh!" Spain sheepishly said.

"Woah! That's intense!" Frankie exclaimed. Spain nervously laughed and he nodded in agreement. "¡Si! It was intense! Hey, uh, we haven't been talked about on the news, have we?"

"Nah, I don't think so."

Suddenly, Spain's lips formed a pout and he folded his arms. "Aw, man! I was hoping we'd make the news!"

Germany gritted his teeth and he growled to Spain. He brought his hands away from his face so he could mad dog him. "This is _nothing_ to be proud of, you jerk! I'm _relieved_ that we're not drawing attention to ourselves! Have you thought about what would happen if the police arrested us?"

Spain stubbornly unfolded his arms and he picked up his fork and stabbed it into a plump meatball. "I don't think about that! It'll never happen! I just want my fifteen minutes of fame on the Italian media, that's all! What's wrong with that?"

"_Everything's_ wrong with that! Guess who watches Italian media – _they do!_" Germany cried and he pointed to the framed images of the Italy Brothers. "How would we explain ourselves to them if they saw a segment about us on their news?! We _cannot_ get caught, Antonio! Especially by _them!_"

"PFFT! Whatever! You're such a killjoy!" Spain immaturely scoffed.

"And you are a reckless idiot!" Germany angrily jeered.

Frankie gestured his hands and he sternly looked to the nations. "Keep it down, you guys! You're disturbing the other diners!" he demanded. Both Germany and Spain casted their eyes to their food and they nodded. Spain held up his fork and brought the stabbed meatball to his mouth, consuming it whole in serpent-like fashion. The tour guide quickly picked up his wine glass again and he sipped on his drink. Afterwards, he settled his glass down and he asked a question.

"So how long have you guys been spying on North and South Italy?"

Germany looked up to face the teenager and he answered. "This is our second week spying on them."

"Ah," Frankie said and he decided to probe even deeper into the situation by asking another question. "How long have The Italies been spending time together on Sundays? Is this a recent thing that they've started? Or have they been doing this for years?"

Germany glanced over to Spain and they both gave each other a puzzling stare. "Uh, well…they've been doing this for many years," Germany hesitantly uttered.

"Si, they started to visit each other on Sundays back in…what, the 1960's, right?"

"Nein, nein…it was the 1950's. That's when they started their weekend visits."

"Are you sure? I could have sworn it was the 60's," Spain insisted as he twirled his fork into his spaghetti.

Germany sighed with frustration and he looked to Spain with slight impatience. "It was the 50's, Antonio! Don't you remember? They started talking to one another again…right after – "

"They _reconciled_," Spain uttered, finishing the nation's sentence. He stopped twirling his fork and he settled it onto the plate. He briefly recalled the bitter feud and contempt that the Italy Brothers once held for each other after World War II. The nation sadly sighed and he rested his chin onto the palm of his left hand. "I hate thinking back on those times," he commented.

"Me too," Germany concurred.

Frankie was becoming fascinated by the nations' lives. He wanted to know about the division between Italy and Romano. But as he looked to Germany and Spain's unhappy expressions, he decided not to ask about the details to the touchy subject matter. Instead, he decided to continue being inquisitive about the Sunday visits. "So who's the 'family' that North and South Italy spend time with?"

Germany sighed again and he shrugged his shoulders. "Beats me," he said.

"We have no idea," Spain admitted.

"So…why would they bother telling you about a family they visit when they had no intention of introducing you guys to them?" Frankie asked.

Germany looked to Spain for the answer. He had nothing to contribute at this point. Spain thought back on that moment when Italy carelessly shared about his plans with his brother. "I think that they never meant to tell us. Feliciano mistakenly told me at my house when he came to pick up Lovino…and I can still remember how upset Lovi was for his slip up. This happened over sixty years ago."

"What did he say?" asked the tour guide.

"All he said was, 'We're spending time with _our family.'_ It's such a vague statement and to this day I still feel stupid not knowing what that means."

Frankie thought for a moment what Italy's meaning to _family_ really represented. When some ideas came to him, he decided to share his opinion with the nations. "I have a couple of explanations. Would you care to hear them?" he asked.

Both Germany and Spain nodded and agreed to listen to the teenager's first hypothesis. "Well, umm…please don't be offended by what I'm about to say…but, er…" Frankie paused and bit his bottom lip. He was getting second thoughts about sharing his opinion.

"Please go on," Germany urged. He was intrigued by what the tour guide wanted to say. Finally, Frankie decided to share his opinion to the nations. "Perhaps they do have a family, or _families_ I should say. You know…maybe they have…_children._"

Germany and Spain gawked to one another with astonishment. Neither one could have imagined such a taboo scenario. Spain broke out into uncontrollable laughter by the thought of Romano being romantically involved with a human female. Germany, however, became reserved and silent. It frightened him to think about the concept of Italy living a double life.

"¡Oh, Dios Mio! I-I don't think they would do something like that!" Spain cried. Frankie frowned at him for laughing at his opinion and the nation quickly tried to stop his laughter. "I-I'm sorry! I couldn't help it! Please forgive me!"

"What's so funny? I don't understand!" Frankie hissed and he folded his arms.

"Well, it's just…" Germany paused and he glared to Spain who was struggling to end his laughter. "You want to stop that?!" he barked. Spain suddenly stifled his voice and he clasped his hand over his mouth. Then, Germany continued his sentence. "You see, Frankie…there has_ never_ been a time that I can recall of ever hearing about a nation falling in love and starting a family with a human being. I guess you could say that it's _forbidden_ to do such things."

Spain suddenly rolled his eyes to Germany and he brought his hand away fro his mouth. "PFFT! Like that's _really_ stopped _certain_ nations from fooling around with humans! Francis, for example, has had many flings with his citizens. So has Gilbert and uh, _yours truly_…eh-heh! Just in case you're wondering, it's the _patriotic _citizens who make the most_ passionate _lovers!"

Germany grimaced to his friend for his blunt confession. It had completely caught him off guard. "Gott Verdamnt! I don't _need_ to know about you and my brother's personal lives! Keep it to yourself! I don't want to hear it!" he demanded.

"What?! I'm just contradicting what you told Frankie, that's all!"

"You must _really_ feel proud of yourself, living a life of promiscuity! How could you do such things if you're in a relationship with Romano?!"

Spain abruptly slammed his hand onto the table and he frowned to Germany. He did not like being accused of committing adultery. "Hey! I'm not cheating behind Lovi's back! I had my affairs with humans _waaaay_ before him and I ever became a couple!"

"Hey! Stop it! Keep it down!" Frankie angrily exclaimed. Both nations quickly obeyed and they calmed themselves down. Then, the tour guide continued to ask more questions to them. "So let me get this straight – it's wrong to fall in love with a human being, but it's okay to have sexual encounters with them? How does that work?"

"It doesn't," Germany sternly answered and he glared to Spain, "and it should _never_ be done. It isn't good for a nation to become _too attached_ to their citizens."

"Why not?" Frankie asked with confusion, "I mean, what's wrong with wanting to know your citizens? And I'm not talking about sex, either. I'm talking about having acquaintances or developing a friendship. Why must you keep your distance away from us?"

Germany expressed a deep sigh. He had an answer to Frankie's questions, but he really did not want to share it with him. He feared that his opinion would offend or even upset the teenager. He glanced over to Spain who was staring intently into his eyes. Even _he_ wanted to know his opinion. Germany knew that he could not avoid the unanswered questions. So, with reluctance, he uttered his response to both of them. "Because you _die._"

Spain flinched after hearing Germany's shocking response. Frankie stared to the nation with a mixture of curiosity and resentment. "W-What did you say?" he cried.

Germany sighed again and he continued his response. "It isn't good for any nation to become too attached to their citizens because…you eventually die. Your lives here on Earth are too short. I've seen one too many of my comrades and citizens killed in the war…and…well, I don't know about you, Antonio, or how Gilbert or Feli or any of the other nations feel about this…but for me personally…I _hate_ saying goodbyes."

Spain slowly nodded his head in agreement. He understood exactly what Germany meant. "I-I do, too. I only know a handful of citizens at a personal level, but I keep my public distance away from the rest of the populace. And lets face it – they want _nothing_ to do with me. I keep getting blamed for the global recession. Unemployment is skyrocketing. I'm practically bankrupt. My citizens _abhor_ me…so why should I bother associating myself with them?"

Frankie was dissatisfied by the nations' honest opinions. He could sympathize with them about the fear of death. But their attitudes of _wanting_ to purposely keep away from their citizens because they could not handle the heartbreak of mourning over them or even avoiding them due to political backlash seemed very disrespectful, unprofessional and heartless.

He looked across the room toward the framed photograph of the Italy Brothers. He felt an overwhelming boost of pride for them. He was grateful to them that they were gracious enough to greet him, his tour guide partner and the citizens of Perugia earlier today. Even despite the terrible occurrence that broke out between Northern and Southern Italians, the Italy Brothers committed themselves to finding a way to make things right, as if it were their _duty_ to do so. Italy's action of scolding his citizens and Romano's action of consoling the little Southern child was, to him, equivalence to a paternal love.

Yes, it _was_ love. And for that, Frankie could not help but to idolize them, for he felt fortunate for himself and for his people that their nations cared so much about them. They made him feel proud to be an Italian.

"Frankie?" Germany said as he tried to get the teenager's attention.

"Hey, Frankie! Yoo-Hoo!" Spain interjected and he clapped his hands. Suddenly, the tour guide was distracted from his devotional daydreaming and he looked to the nations. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said.

"No worries," Spain said and he picked up his fork and began to quickly twirl his spaghetti. "Hey, what were your other theories about the Italies' 'family'?" he asked and he sloppily started consuming his noodles.

"Oh, right," Frankie murmured and he tried recollecting what he believed who the family could be. When he finally remembered, he looked to Spain and he told him his assumption. "Well, this is my only other theory…and I think it speaks for itself. It's got to be the _Mafia!_" he declared.

Instantaneously, Spain began choking on his pasta. He desperately slurped up his noodles and swallowed them down his throat. After he gasped for breath, he eagerly looked to both Frankie and Germany. "DUDE! That's _exactly _what I've been saying! Germany! Didn't I tell you this morning that I thought it was the Mafia?!"

Germany face-palmed himself and he expressed a resentful growl. "Gott, it _isn't_ the Mafia!" he cried.

Suddenly, both Frankie and Spain looked to one another and they both questioned Germany in unison. "How do _you_ know?!" they jeered.

"I-I just do! Well, at least I know that Feli would not be involved with organized crime! Could you imagine him in that scenario?"

Frankie shrugged his shoulders and began gesturing his hands. "Eh, he's got a point. The mafia is greatly disliked up here. North Italy doesn't like their presence. So it _would_ make sense that he wouldn't want anything to do with them. _South Italy_ on the other hand…" he then paused his sentence as he reached for the wine decanter. As he poured himself another glass of wine, he continued to speak. "…he's vitally important to them…and they are vitally important to _him._"

"Oh, Gott!" Germany gasped and he cringed. He was hoping to God that Romano had no connection with the Mafia. His anxiety levels skyrocketed and he nervously picked up his glass of ice water and chugged it down. Spain, on the other hand, had become giddy with excitement. "_I knew it!_ Oh, my Tomate is a badass!" he cried.

Germany slammed his empty glass down onto the table and he grimaced to Spain for his inappropriate enthusiasm. "Shut up! This isn't something to gloat about!"

Frankie sighed and he nodded. "Nor is this something that we should be publically discussing. What I've shared with you is common knowledge with my people. You don't need to know any more details."

"Aww! C'mon, man! Don't leave me hanging! What does he do with them?! Tell me!" Spain begged.

"This is something I can never share because…well, I don't know what he does. I'm not a member of _that_ family. However, I do know some people back home in Sicily who are and I'm pretty sure they're not discussing about it to anybody outside their inner circle."

Spain's lips formed an exaggerated pout and he moped in his chair. "Aw, man!" he whined.

Frankie smirked toward the despondent nation. As he looked to him, however, he had a sudden realization that both Spain and Germany could possibly have to journey down to South Italy in future travels. By Spain's gullibility, he could sense that the nation may not understand the tribulations both he and Germany could be facing if they ran into the wrong people. Frankie's smirk disappeared and he looked to the men with all seriousness showing on his face. "Have you guys traveled to South Italy yet?" he flatly asked.

"Nein, we have not," Germany responded.

"I'd like to give you some advice. May I?"

"O-Of course you may," Germany said. He was taken aback by the teenager's somber attitude.

Frankie looked to both nations and he began to share his warning to them. "When you travel down to South Italy, be sure not to draw too much attention to yourselves. Be as discreet as possible. If you don't, you'll get the attention of the police. Heed my warning, you guys – you don't want to run into them. They're _bad news_."

"W-What ever do you mean?" Germany hesitantly asked. Being a nation that has always embraced and respected authority figures, he was confused by Frankie's advice.

"The police in South Italy are _corrupt._ They work alongside the Mafia. Not all, but most do. The few who don't, however, have their own gang-like affiliation within their precinct. They like to take advantage of the foreign tourists. They arrest them for petty reasons and ransom them with overly high bailouts. It's a lucrative business."

Spain's emerald eyes widened with surprise. "Shit!" he gasped.

Frankie brought his hands and clasped them together. He could see the fear expressed in Germany's face. Spain still seemed oblivious to the dangers that were told to him. The tour guide looked down to his hands and he spoke to the nations. "Have you guys discussed what you would do if you had to travel to _Sicily?_"

Spain shrugged his shoulders and answered, "Eh, not really. Why?"

Frankie raised his head up and he stared into the nations eyes. "Do you want my honest opinion about going to Sicily?"

"Uh, of course we do…"

"Fine," the teenager said and he eyed both men intently as he talked to them. "Don't."

"W-What?!" Spain cried.

"Don't go to Sicily."

"B-But what if Feli and Lovi go down there?"

"Well, that's too bad. _Do not_ go to Sicily. It's too dangerous! Sicily is the heart of Mafia society. Its roots began on that island. The Mafia families who live there are _very_ powerful. If you accidentally offend any members of their family, _especially_ the Godfathers, you'll have a bounty on your head!"

"PFFT! Oh, c'mon! You're being overly dramatic, don't you think? Life in Sicily can't be like how it's portrayed by Hollywood!" Spain scoffed and he started to chuckle. Germany gawked at him in disbelief. He could not fathom how his friend could just causally brush off the ominous forewarnings that were just shared to them.

Frankie glared to Spain and he suddenly unclasped his hands. He formed his right hand into a fist and he slammed it onto the table. "Do you think this is some kind of joke?! Do you see me laughing?! I'm not! I'm trying to spare you two from being _killed!_"

Spain's chuckling immediately silenced and he became startled by the tour guide's sudden outburst. Frankie continued to fervently explain everything to the nations. "Yes, there are good sides to Sicily. But there are bad sides, too! The problem with both of you is that you wouldn't know where _not_ to travel or _which_ side of the island to avoid! You can't just waltz into Sicily, mistakenly bump into a Mafioso and expect to be pardoned! The_ only_ person who can safely travel throughout the entire island is _him!_" Suddenly, Frankie pointed toward the framed photograph of the Italy Brothers and his firm index finger pointed to the image of Romano.

"South Italy has great power and is highly regarded in Sicily. For God's sake, _South Italy __is__ Sicily!_ The Godfathers have to _kiss_ _his ring_ when he comes to the island for business! Would they do this for you? Hell no! Do you think they'd give a shit that you're nations?! No! They'd have you wiped out in a second if you trespassed onto their land! I'm only going to say this one last time – DO NOT GO TO SICILY!"

Germany and Spain stared to one another with great uncertainty showing on their faces. Frankie, meanwhile, picked up his spoon and he stubbornly shoveled his now cold pasta about inside his bowl. Germany's body was internally being tortured by the terrible bouts of anxiety that he was experiencing. He was beginning to have second thoughts about everything; he was starting to think that spying on the Italy Brothers was a terrible mistake. He wanted to be back in Berlin and surrounded by the comforts of home. He wanted to be in the company of his dogs and cats. The nation had wished that he had now obeyed the household pets and had not bothered to snoop behind his partner's back.

Spain turned his head to look toward the framed photograph of the Italy Brothers. He stared intently at Romano's handsome image and his ancient heart began pounding in his chest. It was not palpitating with lust or passion. Instead, it was palpitating because he was fearful. He was becoming frightened of Romano's image. Everything that Spain had always known about his beloved had been pushed aside by this new imagery that the tour guide described of him. By the course of their prolonged lunch, Romano had become a _stranger_ to him. He had wished now that he could have remained ignorant when it came to his partner's Mafioso ties. What little information that was shared to him was too much to accept. Spain wanted to forget. Oh, how he wanted to forget.

* * *

Italy pulled out a white cloth handkerchief from his inner suit pocket and he dabbled the droplets of perspiration off of his forehead. He and Romano had split up two hours ago to converse with the Perugian citizens about their plans for the party tonight. So far, everyone whom Italy had visited with agreed to join the nations for their feast at the Square. They also assisted the tiring nation in spreading the message to other people on his behalf.

After wiping the sweat off of his forehead, Italy tucked the handkerchief into his inner suit pocket. He was becoming rather exhausted from being on his feet for such a long while. He was beginning to think that he had done enough. If he had to continue any longer, he feared that he would collapse from exhaustion. Italy walked over to the side of one building and he rested in the shade.

"Ugh! It's so hot!" Italy softly complained to himself as he tugged on his shirt collar. He slowly sat himself down and he slouched against the building. "I hope Roma is okay in this humidity. Perhaps I should give him a text to ask how he's doing." The nation reached into his suit jacket again and he retrieved his cellphone. His thumbs quickly tapped onto the screen surface as he typed his message for Romano to receive.

* * *

Hey! It's hot outside! You doing OK?

* * *

Italy sent the message and he rested the cellphone onto his lap. He closed his lovely brown eyes and relished the nice cool air that briefly blew past his way. He was beginning to feel very relaxed and content. After a few minutes of solitude, Italy's cellphone buzzed. The nation picked it up and he turned on the screen. He had received a response from his brother.

* * *

I'm OK. I'm going back to The Giordano's. Will you be returning soon?"

* * *

Italy smiled to what he read and he started to type his response. As he typing, a loud bird chirping from a distance caught his attention. He looked up to try to catch a glimpse of the singing bird. Then, the bird revealed itself and it flew out from the thick branches of a tree and it settled itself in front of somebody's residence. Italy looked toward the home and he mentally decided that this would be his final visitation before returning to his brother. He typed his text message and he sent it to Romano.

* * *

Si! I'll be back soon! :3

* * *

After a couple of minutes of resting, Italy eventually stood himself up. He brushed off whatever dirt that had accumulated onto the backside of his suit. Then, he walked up toward the house. When he got to the entrance, he knocked on the door. Italy placed his hands into his pant pockets and he repeatedly stood up on his tiptoes and down again as he waited.

Then, he could hear the clinking sound of the door's locks unlocking and the door opened. There stood a somber boy with blond hair and blue eyes. Italy immediately recognized who he was – it was Fabrizio, the Northerner child who had slapped Apollonia. Italy was at the Bartalotti residence.

Italy stood completely still and he and Fabrizio silently stared to one another. The child's blue eyes started to water up and his pale cheeks flushed. He was still feeling very ashamed of himself for his terrible behavior at the Square. Italy could see how visibly upset the child was and he decided to smile so he would appear less intimidating to him. "Ciao!" he said in a welcoming tone.

Fabrizio did not utter a word. He looked down to his feet and his tiny hands gripped the side of the front door. As Italy tried to make small talk with him, Fabrizio suddenly slammed the door shut and he ran into his bedroom.

"I-I'm glad to see you again. May I speak to one of your pare – SLAM – Eh?! Hey! Don't go!" Italy cried and he repeatedly knocked on the front door. "I'm not here to yell at you! Oh, honey! Please come back!"

Inside the house, Fabrizio slammed his bedroom door shut and he plopped onto his bed. He sobbed profusely onto the surface of the pillow. He could not bear to be near Italy. He had brought shame upon him – he had said so himself. The little boy felt that his actions today were unforgivable. Whatever reason why the prestigious nation was at his doorstep did not matter to him. He strongly believed that his family was unworthy to have him at their home.

Mrs. Bartalotti came running into the living room after she overhead the slamming. "What's going on in here?!" she cried. She rushed up to her son's bedroom door and she was about to open it until she heard knocking coming forth from the front door. Timidly, she walked up to the front door and she peeked through the peephole to see who was calling on them. When Mrs. Bartalotti realized that it was Italy standing at their front door, her heart sank. She, too, was feeling bouts of shame for everything that had happened today. She did not want to answer the door, for she feared that she could be facing retribution from him.

Mrs. Bartalotti knew that she could not continue to ignore his presence forever. He knew that somebody had to be home with her son. So she unwillingly gripped the doorknob and she slowly opened the door.

Mrs. Bartalotti's remained downcast when she opened the door. She was afraid to look at her nation's face. She believed that Italy's expression would be scornful and angry to her like it had been when he scolded her husband and the Perugian citizens. Italy could see how Mrs. Bartalotti was refusing to look at him. He understood her actions and was not offended by her unsocial behavior. He broke the silence between them and he made his formal greeting.

"Ciao, Mrs…Mrs…pardon me, but what is your name?" the nation kindly asked.

Mrs. Bartalotti expressed a deep sigh and she softly answered him while her eyes remained downcast. "I…I-I'm Gina Bartalotti…"

Italy smiled to the distraught woman. He was grateful that she was speaking to him. "Mrs. Bartalotti…I hope I'm not disturbing you – "

"H-How did you find my home?" Mrs. Bartalotti asked and she raised her head up to look at her nation. "D-Did somebody tell you where I lived?"

"Oh, no, Signora (Ma'am). Nobody has told me anything. I was in the neighborhood and I came across this house. Why do you ask?"

"F-Forgive me, North Italy. I…I'm fearing that my family will receive a backlash from the community after our horrible behavior this afternoon. I…I…" Suddenly, Mrs. Bartalotti's blood shot blue eyes started overflowing with tears and she broke down into uncontrollable sobbing. Her knees buckled, giving way for her to collapse onto the ground.

"Mrs. Bartalotti!" Italy cried and he immediately grabbed a hold of the distraught woman. As he knelt down and held her in his arms, the woman pressed her face onto his chest and she cried. "P-Please don't think ill of me, N-North Italy! I'm a good _mother!_ I swear to you that I am! I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry for everything!"

"Shhh, Signora…please calm down…I-I don't doubt your word…" Italy tenderly said.

At this very moment, Mr. Bartalotti overheard his wife's sobbing and he panicked. "Oh, Mio Dio!" he angrily cried and he rushed up to the front door. He feared that a resident was attacking her. As he got to the front door, ready to pounce on the intruder, he realized that it was his nation consoling his emotional wife. "N-North Italy!" he gasped.

"Mr. Bartalotti," Italy greeted as he held his wife in his arms.

Mr. Bartalotti frowned to his wife and he reached over to pull her away from Italy's embrace. "T-That's enough, darling. Stop that! You're smothering him!" he insisted.

"N-No! Please, Mr. Bartalotti! It's quite all right! I don't mind at all!" Italy reassured. Mr. Bartalotti nodded and he stood up straight. He, too, could not make eye contact with Italy for he felt repulsive about his unacceptable behavior. As his wife's crying started to subside somewhat, he knelt down by her side and he assisted her to stand up. When she was able to do so, he held onto her and consoled her as best as he could. While he focused on comforting his distraught partner, he spoke to Italy.

"W-Why have you come here?" he solemnly asked.

Italy stood himself up and he looked to the couple with sincerity. "I didn't know that this was your home. But I'm glad that I'm here now standing before you because I've come to make an announcement."

"A-An announcement?" asked Mrs. Bartalotti.

"Si, Signora. Tonight, at the Square, my brother and myself will be holding a feast. We want all of Perugia's citizens to attend. This is our way of trying to unite the city together. We're both hoping that our people from the North and the South can finally learn to get along and become one community. I want you to attend at the party tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Bartalotti, and please bring your son as well. If you like, you could bring a dish for the party. It could be anything…but what matters to me most is that you come tonight."

Mr. and Mrs. Bartalotti sadly looked to one another and they nodded their heads in refusal to Italy's invitation. "Grazie, North Italy, for your graciousness…even though we don't deserve it," said Mr. Bartalotti.

"W-We can't bring ourselves to come to the party. After all the trouble that we caused, I-I think that it would be best that we didn't show up at all. Nobody would want us to be there, anyway," said Mrs. Bartalotti.

Italy sighed and he looked to the married couple with compassion expressed on his face. "Look…I understand that there is tension in the city right now…and it's partly because of you…but the truth is that _everyone _is to blame for what happened today. Everyone's prejudices against one another has always been present here and what had happened this afternoon may have happened regardless whether or not my brother and I were visiting Perugia. You can't tell me that there has _never_ been a quarrel between Northerners and Southerners before, can you?"

Mr. Bartalotti nodded his head, "No…it has happened before," he said.

Italy concurred by nodding and he smirked. "It's been happening for _centuries._ My brother and I are well aware of this. But you know what? It doesn't have to continue being this way. That's why we're having the party. We're hoping that by the end of our visit, we'll have this city _united_, not divided! The feuding between Northern Italians and Southern Italians may continue elsewhere, but at least we could make a difference by setting a good example here in Perugia for everyone else to follow."

Mrs. Bartalotti began choking with tears again, whereas her husband tried desperately not to show any emotion. He did not want to cry in front of their nation. He parted his lips and he quietly murmured his petition not to attend the party. "I…I cannot come tonight…I cannot – "

"But why?" Italy interrupted, "Why is my request so difficult for you to fulfill?" He then came up closely to Mr. Bartalotti and he placed his hand onto the man's shoulders. "Why do you _hate_ my brother so much?"

Mr. Bartalotti was stunned by Italy's question. Without warning, his tears began to escape from his blue eyes and they ran down his cheeks. Italy decided to reach over to hold Mr. Bartalotti's hand and surprisingly, the man did not flinch nor feel threatened by his act of intimacy.

"Your actions today have really hurt me…and I know that it has deeply affected my brother, too…although he's not the type to ever show it. But I can _feel_ his anguish within me. We're twins, Mr. Bartalotti. We can feel each other's emotions.

"We're aware of the differences that divide our country. Such divisions could partly be our fault. There was a time when we used to not get along. South Italy used to really resent me. But eventually, we were able to accept our differences and we have a great relationship. If we can do this, why can't our citizens? You shouldn't be segregating yourselves between Northern Italians and Southern Italians – you're just _Italian_ to us!"

Mr. Bartalotti wiped away is tears and he looked into Italy's eyes. "I'm sorry, North Italy, for what I have caused this afternoon. I-I'm sorry for manipulating my son to embrace my toxic behavior. This is all my fault!"

"And mine," insisted Mrs. Bartalotti and she looked to her husband, "I'm equally as guilty as you in raising our son inappropriately." She then looked to Italy and her lips started to tremble. "I really hope that the party will be a success," she said.

Italy smiled to her and he reached over to hold her hand. "Does this mean that you will attend?"

Mrs. Bartalotti's trembling lips formed a small smile and she nodded. "Si, North Italy…I will come tonight. And I'll bring some food, too."

Mr. Bartalotti concurred, "I'm coming, too."

Italy's smile turned into a radiant grin and he suddenly embraced the married couple. "Oh! I'm so glad!" he happily cried. As they held one another in a gentle hug, Italy looked behind the Bartalotti's shoulders and saw their son Fabrizio standing at the doorway. The nation smiled to him and he broke his embrace with the child's parents. He walked around the Bartalotti's so he could get to the little boy. Then, he knelt down to his eye level.

Fabrizio's eyes began to water up again and he sadly looked to his nation. "D-Do you hate me?" he asked in a hushed tone.

Italy's heartstrings were tugged by the child's tragic assumption. "Oh, no, honey! I don't hate you! Not at all!" he exclaimed and he lovingly embraced Fabrizio in his arms. "I'm very displeased with your actions this afternoon, but I'm glad that you realize how badly you behaved. Will you be attending the party?"

Italy pulled away so he could see Fabrizio's face. He could see how relieved the child appeared to him after his reassurance. "Si, I'll be there," he said.

"That's wonderful! And when you come, will you apologize to the little girl that you were mean to?"

"Si, I will, North Italy."

"Bravo! You've made me so happy!" Italy cried and he kissed the child's cheeks. Fabrizo's cheeks flushed; his solemn expression disappeared and his lips formed a smile. He then stood up and he embraced and kissed Fabrizio's parents. "Grazie for making an effort to heal this great city of ours!"

Mrs. Bartalotti smiled to her nation. She squeezed her husband's hand as she spoke to Italy. "Grazie for giving us the chance to make atonement with everyone for our wrongful behavior, especially to South Italy. I hope that everyone else will do the same."

"So do I, Signora! I hope that everything goes swimmingly tonight!" replied Italy. He then checked the time on his wristwatch. When he saw how late it was becoming, he decided that it was time for him to return to The Giordano residence. "I'm sorry, but I must return to my brother. We have much preparation to do!"

"We understand, North Italy," said Mr. Bartalotti and he extended his hand out to him. "We must prepare, too. We'll see you tonight."

Italy grasped and shook Mr. Bartalotti's hand. "Right! We'll see each other tonight! Good day, Mr. and Mrs. Bartalotti!" said the eager nation. He then looked over to Fabrizio and he smiled. "I'll see you later, honey!" he said.

Fabrizio smiled to Italy and he walked up to stand in between his parents. The Bartalottis' placed their hands behind his back and they watched their nation venture forward to his destination. They silently gave thanks to God that Italy had given them a second chance to turn a new leaf. Never again would they preach hatred toward their fellow man, nor to South Italy. All they could hope now is that the Perugian citizens and Romano will accept their apology.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

**Author's Note: **Well, I was able to write the song for the Italy Brothers to sing! Its called A Mighty Boot! It isn't perfect; obviously "foot" and "boot" don't rhyme. But I think you get the idea of what I was trying to grasp at. I had fun writing it! I'm a huge fan of musicals and Bollywood films. So when you get to the singing portion of this chapter, I've written descriptive scenes to think about when picturing the number in your head. Since I have no special visuals to demonstrate what I see in my head, we'll have to use our imaginations. That shouldn't be too hard for us! :D

Oh yeah, remember how I mentioned that my friend Amanda was drawing a cover fan art for my story? Well, it's FINISHED! THE LINK IS ON MY FANFICTION HOMEPAGE! I'm still blown away by how beautiful it turned out! I LOVE IT! THANK YOU SO MUCH, AMANDA! Please check out her DeviantArt account Nobody Studios to see her fantastic artwork and projects! She also accepts commissions! I have the link to her account on my homepage!

If you want, please leave a review and let me know what you thought of this chapter, the song and the fan art! :3

Thank you! Onward to Chapter 13!

* * *

Evening was beginning to set in on the ancient city of Perugia. The citizens were at the Fontana Maggiore in the city square setting up various tables and chairs for everyone to dine on. They were also setting up a large buffet station where their home cooked meals would be sitting on. Tall, wooden polls were propped up and used to clutch onto Italian flag steamers and Christmas lights that crisscrossed above the tables. Patio heaters were set at the various tables to keep the diners warm in case the evening temperature dropped too low. A sturdy, temporary stage was built for the local band to play on and it was decorated with beautiful Italian tapestries. Everything was just about complete. All that was missing was their prestigious guests – the Italy Brothers.

Meanwhile, Germany and Spain were observing the Perugian citizens at a distance. They were sitting on the ground and concealing themselves behind some bushes. Frankie the tour guide temporarily abandoned them in order to assist everyone in setting up the Square for the party. Both nations were anxiously waiting to have a glimpse of their beloved partners. They were also anticipating the encounter between The Bartalotti's and The Giordano's.

"What's taking _our lovelies_ so long to get here?" Spain impatiently asked.

"Who knows? Maybe they made a lot of food for the party," answered Germany as he scoped the grounds with his eyes, hoping to recognize a familiar face amongst the crowd. "I'm curious to see what Feliciano decided to cook. He has so many great recipes!"

"I think I can guess what my Lovi has made – Neapolitan pizza!" Spain happily cried.

Germany looked over to his friend with surprise. "I thought you told me that Romano was a lousy cook."

Spain suddenly started to chuckle and he gestured his hands as he spoke. "He really _isn't_ bad! It's just that sometimes he becomes_ very_ impatient with certain recipes! If something isn't cooking fast enough, he has to raise the temperature. He gets angry waiting for water to boil! If he just didn't do these things, his meals would turn out magnifico! (magnificent!) I always tell him to chill out and snuggle with me while the food is cooking! But sometimes…that causes the food to turn out bad, too! We get a little too…_pre-occupied_…eh-heh!"

"Ha! I think cooking is the _only_ time when Feli isn't pre-occupied with me. Everything has to turn out perfect! If something with the recipe goes wrong – which rarely ever happens – he'll start over from scratch. Cooking and baking is his passion!" Germany's thin lips formed a grin as he thought about all the delicious meals that Italy has ever prepared for him. He even thought about the meals that the nation prepared for their _pets_. His pale cheeks blushed as he recalled the one ritual that Italy has always done for him whenever serving him food.

"Hey, _Ant_…you know, Feli kisses my cheek whenever he serves me a meal. He even does it when he's serving me a snack or a drink. I love it when he does that for me."

Spain expressed an exciting smile and he chuckled. "Hey! Lovi does that for me, too! I wonder if they realize that they have the same ritual? Say, did you just call me '_Ant'?_"

Germany nodded. "Ja, I did. You don't mind, do you?"

Spain thought for a second about this new nickname christened to him. He smiled to his friend and he nodded. "I like it! I've never been called an _insect_ before! It's pretty cute! What do you want me to call you?"

"Erm, just call me 'Ludwig'...bitte, I don't need you to give me a special name – "

"I know!" Spain suddenly gasped and he happily shared his ideas for Germany's new pet name. "I can call you _'Luddy!'_ or even _'Lu-Lu!'_ Hey, even _'Wiggy' _sounds good – "

"NEIN!" Germany instantaneously cried, startling the content nation. Spain's lips formed a plump pout. He was saddened that Germany was displeased with his ideas for nicknames. Germany quickly took notice of Spain's despondence and he immediately softened his presence to him. "W-What I meant was…you can't call me 'Luddy'…because that is what Feli calls me. I don't really care for the other two nicknames that you thought up. But…umm…"

Suddenly, Germany recalled a particular nickname that Spain had already labeled him from their previous misadventure. He smiled to his friend and he reminded him what it was. "Technically, you've already given me a nickname – '_Señor'. _Remember?"

As he realized that Germany was correct about his apparent nickname, Spain's somber face had magically transformed into a radiant expression. He was thrilled that he had already thought up a pet name for him, even if were by accident. "Oh, yeah! I completely forgot! It really suits you, too!" he cried.

"Ja, I guess it does…heh," Germany assertively concurred.

The nations chuckled amongst themselves over their silly nicknames for each other. While they were doing this, a sudden round of applause erupted from the crowd. Both Germany and Spain stopped laughing and they cautiously peeped over the bushes. They immediately saw what the commotion was – the Italy Brothers had arrived!

"EEEE!" Spain squealed as he spotted Romano holding a pizza pan in his hands. "I _knew _it! He made his Neapolitan pizza! Yummers!"

"I wonder what Feli made?!" Germany cried as he observed Italy holding a large crock-pot.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure it's delicious!" Spain gleefully said. Both nations watched the citizens of Perugia crowd around the Italy Brothers and The Giordanos'. They saw some people, including Frankie, taking away their food to place at the buffet. Italy and Romano graciously hugged and kissed their citizens. The Giordanos' stood next to their nations and they too received much love from the crowd, especially their daughter, Apollonia.

Italy and Romano admired the hard work that the citizens had put into preparing and decorating the Square. They were very pleased that – so far – everyone was getting along. Suddenly, a herd of little children ran up to the nations and they excitedly stamped to them. "NORTH ITALY! SOUTH ITALY!" they screamed and they glomped onto them.

"GAAAH!" Both Italy and Romano cried as they collapsed onto the cobbled stone ground. They started to uncontrollably laugh out loud and they sat themselves up. They lovingly doted on every single child and they gave them equal attention.

"You're back! YAAAY!"

"We love you!"

"Will you sit next to me?!"

"NO! They're gonna sit next to me!"

"Will not!"

"Will so!"

"Children! Children, please!" cried Italy as he tried to control his laughter. "Please don't fight over us! Believe me, I wish we could sit next to everybody!"

Romano concurred, "I don't know where we'll be sitting. But please don't become upset if we're not sitting next to you! We'll still be able to enjoy everybody's company regardless which end of the table we'll be at!"

The little children giggled and nodded their heads. At this very moment, Italy spotted a family arriving from the other end of the Square – it was The Bartalotti's. Italy's auburn eyes widened and he gently nudged Romano. "Speaking of _everybody…_" he trailed off and he gestured his head to the family's direction. Romano looked toward The Bartalotti's and his blood turned cold. He was still angry with them for their terrible behavior. He was particularly angry toward their son, Fabrizio and the way he mistreated Apollonia. Italy immediately noticed his brother's stubbornness showing and he reached over to grasp his hand. When he did so, he tenderly squeezed it.

"Please be nice, fratello," he softly murmured.

"Hmmph!" Romano scoffed and he frowned. He personally did not want anything to do with the Northerner family. As The Bartalotti's were approaching them, the Italy Brothers stood themselves up. The Giordano's turned their gaze away from their nations and they looked to The Bartalotti's. The Southerner family tensed up with mixed emotions. Apollonia slowly stepped behind her mother and she concealed herself with her long skirt. She was intimidated by Fabrizio's presence. Her mother tenderly patted her daughter's curly black hair and she protectively pressed her closely against her body.

Finally, The Bartalotti family was standing in front of The Giordano family. They held trays of home cooked meals and a bottle of red wine. Fabrizio solemnly backed away and he, too, hid himself behind his mother. Then, The Bartalotti's friends and entourage belonging to Lega Nord crowded around them. The Giordano's and the other Southern Italians nervously looked to one another. Were they about to be ambushed? That was all they could think about. Some of the men glared toward the Northern Italians and they mentally prepared themselves to fight if it decided to suddenly break out.

Meanwhile, both Germany and Spain eagerly watched everybody from behind the bushes. Their stomachs tightened by the tension that they were observing. Was a fight going to break out? Would their beloved Italy Brothers be able to prevent a fight from starting? And if not, would they be _safe?_ The only thing that the nations could do was to wait and see what unfolded next.

Both families silently looked to one another. Nobody said a word. The little children slowly stepped away from the serious adults and they headed back to their families. Romano and Italy waited for somebody to break their silence. When nobody volunteered to speak, Italy took the position of welcoming The Bartalotti's. He stepped up to Mr. and Mrs. Bartalotti and he greeted them with a hug and a kisses to their cheeks.

"Ciao, Mr. Bartalotti! Ciao, Mrs. Bartalotti! I'm so glad that you could make it!" he graciously said. Then, a couple walked up to The Bartalotti's and they took their offerings to the buffet table. Meanwhile, Italy gestured for Fabrizio to step forward. When he did so, Italy knelt down and he gently embraced him. "Ciao, Fabrizio! How are you, honey?"

"I-I'm good," Fabrizio timidly answered.

"That's wonderful! I'm so glad that you're here!" Italy exclaimed. Then, he looked to his brother and he smiled to him. His eyes looked over to Apollonia and he gestured his head to her direction. Romano understood his wordless command and he walked over to The Giordano's. The nation knelt down to Apollonia's level and he reached over to hold her tiny hand.

"Remember what I told you earlier in your room, sweetheart?" he quietly murmured and he smiled to the little girl. Apollonia, who still clung to her mother's skirt, slowly nodded as she acknowledged their previous conversation. Romano squeezed her hand and he gestured his head toward Fabrizio. "Are you ready to talk to him?"

Apollonia quickly turned her gaze away from Romano and she buried her face onto her mother's skirt. She was afraid to see Fabrizio. But then she remembered Romano's advice – she had to give him a chance to apologize and to try to get to know one another better. She timidly turned her gaze to Romano and she nodded. "I-I'm ready," she nervously uttered and she started to step away from her mother's side.

Romano grinned to the little girl and he led her by the hand to Fabrizio. At the same time, Italy had begun leading the little boy by the hand. Both nations and the children met halfway and they released their hold onto their tiny hands. Fabrizio and Apollonia stared to one another. Then, Fabrizio reached into his jacket and he pulled out a corsage made of budding pink roses, baby's breath and white ribbon.

"T-This is f-for you," he nervously stammered.

Apollonia gasped by the sight of the corsage. Her tiny lips formed a smile and her dark cheeks blushed. She looked up to Romano, who was also taken aback by the lovely gift and the nation smiled to her. He briefly stretched his arm forward and he gestured to Apollonia that she needed to do this. The little girl nodded and she slowly extended her arm to Fabrizio. Then, the little boy carefully slipped the corsage onto her wrist.

"G-Grazie!" Apollonia cried.

"P-Prego," Fabrizio murmured and he sadly looked to Apollonia. "I-I'm so sorry for being mean to you. I was really awful…if you don't want anything to do with me, I'll understand."

"I-I accept your apology," Apollonia shyly responded. She admired her corsage for a moment and then she looked up to Fabrizio. "You_ were_ very mean to me. But I forgive you."

"Y-You do?!" Fabrizio asked in a perplexed tone. He thought for sure that he would receive the opposite response from the little girl.

"Si," Apollonia concurred, "I-I want us to start over. We don't really know each other, expect for our differences. Lets get to know each other…so we could become friends."

"Huh?" Fabrizio gasped, for Apollonia's words astonished him. "Y-You want to be my friend?"

Apollonia slowly nodded her head. "Si…that is, if you want to be my friend…" she murmured.

Fabrizio smiled to Apollonia and his blue eyes watered up. "I-I'd like that very much," he said. He then stepped forward to the little girl and he chivalrously kissed Apollnia's hand. Apollonia giggled and she suddenly wrapped her arms around Fabrizio. Immediately, everybody around them began to clap and whistle for the children's act of forgiveness. Both of their parents and the nations felt extremely proud of their actions. Italy especially was moved emotionally and he began to blubber.

"Ay, Veneziano! Stop that!" Romano teased and he walked up to his brother and he gently wiped away his tears. Italy began to laugh and he embraced Romano in his arms. Then, Apollonia's brother Martino walked up to Fabrizio and he shook his hand. They apologized to one another for their shouting match earlier that afternoon. Finally, The Bartalottis, their friends and entourage apologized to The Giordano's and to the Southern Italian community. After the exchange of apologies, hugs, kisses and tears, the Bartalottis and their entourage turned to Romano.

"S-South Italy," Mrs. Bartalotti nervously uttered, "Will you find it in your heart to forgive us?"

"Si…we're so sorry for snubbing you," said Mr. Bartalotti.

Their entourage also began to apologize profusely to Romano and fresh tears began steaming down their faces. Even Fabrizio was choking with emotion as he looked to the nation. Romano was stunned by the overwhelming grief that the citizens bestowed upon him and his heart softened for them. He could not find the words to say to everybody. Instead, he allowed his actions to speak on his behalf as he wrapped his arms around Mr. and Mrs. Bartalotti. The Northern couple began to cry in Romano's embrace. They understood through this gesture that they had been forgiven. Romano gently pulled away and he kissed Mrs. Bartalotti's moist cheek.

Then, he knelt down and he hugged Fabrizio. The little boy cried in his arms and he emotionally spoke to Romano. "Y-You're my nation, too!" he choked.

Romano's heart fluttered by the child's declaration and he grinned. He gave Fabrizio a kiss on the cheek and then he stood himself up. One by one, everyone hugged and kissed Romano, giving him the formal and loving greeting that he should have received earlier that day. Romano's demeanor was calm, but deep inside he wanted to burst into tears. He was overjoyed by everyone's actions toward him. He had not imagined that this would be happening. All he cared about was the dignity of his citizens. Now to have his dignity fully restored made the nation beaming with happiness.

Everybody began to vigorously clap, cheer and whistle. Then, Italy cheerfully gestured his hands as he loudly shouted. "C'MON! LETS EAT!"

Everybody agreed and they hurriedly went to the buffet tables and served themselves food. Romano and Italy served themselves as well and eventually everyone gathered to the numerous tables. While standing, they said Grace and the Italy Brothers held up their glasses of wine. "ALLA FAMIGLIA!" (TO FAMILY!) they gleefully shouted. Then, Italy sipped his wine, whereas Romano chugged his drink in one gulp.

"ALLA FAMIGLIA!" shouted the Perugian citizens and they, too, sipped on their drinks. Then, the Square was echoing with the sounds of laughter, praise over one's cooking and different conversations going all at once. Their voices were loud and their hand flapped various gestures as they conversed.

Meanwhile, Germany and Spain watched everybody enjoying themselves. They could smell the marvelous scents of the different kinds of food that was served and their stomachs began to grumble in protest. "Oh, Gott! I'm starving!" Germany cried.

"Me, too! What are we going to do?!" Spain whined.

Suddenly, as if their petitions had been overheard, Frankie quickly rushed up to the nations. "Hey! Sorry! I got carried away and forgot about you guys! Want something to eat and drink?"

"¡Si! Could you get us two slices of Lovi's Neapolitan pizza and a serving of whatever Feli brought in the Crock-pot?! Oh, and two glasses of wine, please!" Spain excitedly said.

Frankie smiled to the nation and he nodded. "You got it! I'll be right back!" he said and he rushed off toward the buffet table.

Spain nudged Germany's side with his elbow and he started to giggle. "You're going to love Lovi's pizza!" he insisted.

"I'm sure that I will. I know that you'll appreciate Feli's cooking, too. Gott, I can't wait to see what he's made!"

"Me too! UGGH!"  
Finally, Frankie returned to the nations and he knelt down behind the bush. He carefully settled the tray of food and wine onto the ground. "There you go!" he said. Germany and Spain's happily grinned to their plates of food – they were served with slices of Romano's Neapolitan pizza and Italy's tortellini and shrimp.

"Oh, mein Gott! You're going to love this!" Germany cried as he picked up his plate. Spain picked up his plate, too and he slyly looked to his friend. "Will you be able to eat a bite without having Italy kissing your cheek?" he teased.

"I think I can manage. How about yourself? Can't function without Romano kissing your cheek?"

"Oh, I'll be fine! But it would be great to receive a kiss, just for the heck of it! So what do you say? Kiss me, Señor!" Spain then grinned and he closed his eyes as he anticipated the feel of Germany's lips onto his left cheek. But unfortunately, nothing happened. Spain opened one eye and he looked to Germany. "Hey! What gives! _Kiss me!_" he whined.

Germany fidgeted with his plate and he nervously began to sweat. His hands became clammy and his heart was pounding in his chest. "I-I don't want to, Ant," he stated.

"Aww! It's only a kiss of friendship! Here, I'll go first!" Spain cried and he leaned in and gave a smooch onto Germany's right cheek. "Muuaaah!" the nation exaggeratedly expressed.

Germany's cheeks turned crimson and he tightly clenched his eyes shut. He had not expected this sudden act of intimacy between himself and his friend. He nervously gulped and he opened his eyes to look at Spain, who was impatiently waiting for him to return the favor. Spain smiled to him and he playfully tapped his index finger onto his left dimple. "Right here!" he ordered.

Germany released a deep sigh and he caved in to Spain's wishes. He timidly leaned closely to him and he gave a quick kiss onto his sun-kissed cheek. "Muah. Now can we eat?" he pleaded.

Spain's face blushed profusely and he giggled. He nodded his head and he picked up his fork. "¡Muy Bein! Nice kiss! Let's eat!" he exclaimed and he stabbed his tortellini and a single shrimp with his fork. Then, Frankie made a quick comment, which flung Germany into full-blown embarrassment.

"Hey! Simmer down with the _bromance_, will you?"

"BROMANCE?!" Germany shouted and his face turned into a deeper crimson. Spain began to happily giggle with his mouth full of food. "Oh, Ludwig! Don't deny what we have between us! Just accept it – _I have!_" he lovingly said and he linked his left arm to Germany's right arm.

"Oh, Gott!" Germany cried and he stuffed his face with Romano's pizza. As he chewed, his blue eyes widened with sheer surprise and he began to moan in orgasmic fashion. "Oh! Mmm! This is _delicious!" _he cried.

"I _told_ you so!" Spain responded and he ate more of his tortellini. "Hey! This is delicious, too!"

"Of course it is!" Germany boasted and he smiled. He then looked to Frankie who was stuffing his face with food. "What do you think of your nations' food?"

"Eh, it's good, but not as good as my _Mama's_," Frankie devotedly said. Then, suddenly, somebody shoved their arms into the tall bush and temporarily separated them apart. The nations and Frankie nervously jumped from this sudden commotion and they looked to see who had blown their cover.

"There you are! Where the _fuck_ have you been?!" the stranger angrily hissed. It was Frankie's tour guide partner.

"Ah, shit, man! Get over here! Are you trying to expose us?!" Frankie ordered and the other tour guide walked around the brush and joined everyone in seclusion. The moment that he sat himself down onto the grass, he smacked Frankie on the backside of his head.

"Why did you bail on me this afternoon?! And why are you hanging out with these tourists?!"

"These gentlemen aren't tourists – they're nations!" Frankie stubbornly pointed out and the tour guide looked to Germany and Spain. He could not recognize them; but then again, he would not know how Germany or Spain would look like. The tour guide folded his arms and he glared to Frankie.

"My day was terrible because of you! I had to spend the entire afternoon with those _obnoxious_ American tourists! One of them pressured me to give the rest of the tour speaking in that _racist_ Mario voice from Super Mario 64!"

"Pressured?" Frankie mocked and he arched an eyebrow to the tour guide, "You were _paid_, weren't you?"

The tour guide briefly scoffed and he looked away fro Frankie's gaze. "$25 American dollars," he admitted.

"You _whore!_" Frankie decried.

"I told the boss what you did and I'm happy to inform you that you've been _fired!_" the tour guide mightily said.

Frankie rolled his eyes and he gestured with his hands. "And I'm supposed to be upset by this?"

"You should! Don't you have any dignity?!"

"I'm being asked if I have any _dignity_ from someone who gave a tour in Mario's voice!"

"OH! You just had to go there, didn't you?! I hope that you're _haunted _by your irresponsibility and think back on everyone that you've let down because of your selfishness!"

"I just got fired from a temporary summer job. I'll try to pick up the pieces and move on with my life!" Frankie sarcastically jeered.

"HEY! FUCK YOU, MAN!" the tour guide screamed.

"YEAH? WELL, FUCK YOU, TOO!" Frankie shouted back. Both teenaged boys bickered and gestured their hands for over a minute. Then, finally, they became quiet. They stared to one another and Frankie broke their silence between them.

"You hungry?"

"Yeah, sure. Cigarette?"

"Okay."

Suddenly, Germany face-palmed himself. He could not believe how dramatic the tour guides' emotions could change so drastically. _"Italians!"_ he cried. As Frankie split his food with the tour guide, he formally introduced him to the nations. "Germany, Spain – this is Alanzo. Alanzo – Germany and Spain."

"Ciao! Ciao!" Alanzo said as he slipped two cigarettes into his mouth. He then pulled out his lighter and lit the cigarettes, then taking one out of his mouth and passing it to Frankie. "Here you go."

"Grazie!"

"No problem. Cigarette?" Alanzo asked the nations and he held out his pack of Marlboro Red.

"Nein, Danke schön," Germany responded.

"¡Gracias!" Spain cried and he pulled out a cigarette from the pack. Alanzo lit it for him and the nation deeply inhaled, only to end up violently coughing and hacking from the irritation to the smoke. After his brief attack, he posed with cigarette in hand, like a boss.

"What the hell, Ant! You don't even smoke! Why are you doing this?!" Germany scolded.

"Why not?! I'm a man! I do what I want!" Spain defensively said and he took another puff. He tried desperately to hold back his coughing and his emerald eyes watered up. After this second attack on his lungs subsided, he held another pose that reflected great masculinity. _"Yeeeaahhh…"_ he seductively murmured.

Meanwhile, Alanzo's nostrils resembled chimneys as an accumulation of cigarette smoke exited his nose. "So what's going on? Why are we back here?" he curiously asked.

"Ay, it's a long story, Al. I'll explain everything to you later," Frankie said.

"No! Explain it to me now! I hate being left in the dark!" Alanzo insisted. So, Frankie and the nations told the young tour guide everything that he needed to know – their mission to find the Italy Brothers' "family" and the events that took place earlier in the afternoon. After they were finished explaining everything, Alanzo took a final puff of his shortened cigarette and he extinguished it by rubbing the butt onto the ground. Then, he immediately pulled out a fresh cigarette from his pack, lit it and continued his chain smoking.

"So what makes you think that the Italies wouldn't start a family with human females? Have you _seen_ our women? They're goddesses!" Alanzo asked the nations. Before either one could answer, Frankie took it upon himself to tell his former co-worker. "They, uh, play on the _same team_ with these two here," he said, gesturing his hand to Germany and Spain.

Alanzo's eyes widened to the nations, who were now blushing profusely with embarrassment. He held his cigarette to his lips and paused. Then, after a moment, he spoke. "Well, that explains a lot!" he bluntly said and he took a puff of his cigarette.

Spain broke out into laughter, whereas Germany remained serious and nervous. "Does this bother you?" he murmured.

"Eh, it's none of my business, to be honest. I didn't have to know that – "

_"You just asked!"_ Frankie angrily interrupted.

"Hey! I know that! But you didn't have to answer it! It's none of my business, all right? Lets leave it at that! But…it _does _explain a lot, _especially_ with North Italy, God love him."

Suddenly, Germany started to chuckle and his cheeks deeply flushed. Alanzo connected the dots and he figured on his own that he must be North Italy's partner. He then looked to Spain and he also thought about South Italy being with him. The tour guide kept his assumptions to himself and he focused his attention to his meal. As he took a bite of the tortellini and shrimp, he shared his opinion about the theory involving his nations and human females.

"So you say that no nation has ever been involved in a relationship with a human being – or so you believe. Perhaps the Italies are the first. Think about this – if they have indeed fathered children back in the 1950's, their children would be in their 60's today and they'd have grandchildren, too!

"Now I'm not trying to troll you guys, but I'm just telling you like it is…Reconstruction after WWII was hellish for our country. There were many grieving widows…emotions ran high…perhaps North and South Italy felt a connection to some women…this could be a possibility, even with North Italy. They must have a family! Why else would they be so secretive about everything?"

Germany's hands became clammy again and he nervously tapped his fork onto his plate. "I-I'll believe it when I see it," he said.

"How about now?" asked Alanzo and he gestured his hand toward the Italy Brothers' direction. Germany placed his plate onto the ground and both he and Spain sat themselves up on their knees. They gawked over the bushes to look toward the tables. Germany became extremely startled as he witnessed his beloved partner standing up from his seat and kissing an older woman on the cheek, then reaching down to pick up a young auburn-haired child from the ground and tenderly holding the youth in his arms. The little girl happily wrapped her tiny arms around his neck and gave Italy kisses onto his blushing cheeks. As Italy held the girl with one arm, he extended arm out and he held onto the older woman's hand.

Germany's heart sank. His body was beginning to feel weak and he feared that he could vomit at any moment. Could _they_ be the family that Italy mistakenly mentioned to Spain over sixty years ago? He hoped to God that they were not and that Alanzo's theory was false. He realized how selfish and awful it was for him to think this way, but Germany wanted nothing to come in-between himself and Italy. The nation turned away from the ominous view and he slouched against the bush, cupping his mouth with his hand.

Spain kept his eyes transfixed on Italy, waiting for any indication of whether or not those humans were kin. After a moment of observation, he and the tour guides noticed an older man and a young couple coming up to greet Italy. After they conversed with Italy, the nation handed the little girl to the young woman and they huddled over next to Romano. He, too, stood up from his seat and he graciously welcomed everybody with hugs and kisses. Spain paid close attention to the interaction between the Italy Brothers and the Italian citizens and he came to the conclusion that they were family to each other, but not toward them. They were only giving their belated salutations to their nations.

"Hey! Hey, Ludwig! It's okay! They're not related to our lovelies! They're just regular citizens greeting them!" Spain happily said and he shook Germany's shoulder with his hand.

Germany looked up to his friend and he shifted his body around so he could see the evidence for himself. When he realized that Spain was correct, he released a sigh of relief and he placed his hand onto his thumping heart. "Oh, Thank God!" he cried and he patted his chest.

Both Germany and Spain turned away from the Square and they slouched against the bushes. They were becoming afraid of what they would discover now about their partners. Could it be possibly considerable to think that Italy and Romano had a secret family that they visited every Sunday? They hoped in their hearts that it was not so.

Alanzo finished his second cigarette and he flicked the butt away with his fingers. "What will you do if you find out that they have a family?" he inquired.

Germany frowned to the tour guide. "They don't. They wouldn't do that to us – "

"And what if they have?"

"Will you stop playing Devil's Advocate?! Lets drop the damn subject, for God's sake! This discussion is over!" Germany furiously cried. Alanzo shrugged his shoulders as he pulled out a _third _cigarette from his pack. He was about to light his cigarette until he noticed Germany glaring to him. He caught the hint from his stare that he did not want him to smoke anymore, so he slipped the unlit cigarette over his right ear for safe keeping.

Frankie picked up the tray off the ground and he stood himself up. "Uh, I'm going to get us more food. I'll be right back," he murmured and he walked over to the buffet.

* * *

A half an hour had passed and the Perugian citizens and the Italy Brothers were still merrily dining and celebrating together at the Square. Romano had polished off a bottle of red wine and he gladly served himself a newly opened bottle for himself. Italy was happily enjoying his consumption of different kinds of pasta. The Bartalotti's and the Giordano's were getting along well and conversing with one another. Everyone was elated and more importantly, they were looking past their differences and becoming one community. The feud between Northern Italians and Southern Italians in Perugia had officially come to an end.

A couple of men stood up from their seats and they walked over to the stage. As they ascended up the stairs and stepped onto the stage, they picked up their traditional instruments and they began to play some folk music reflecting both North Italy and South Italy. The Italy Brothers looked to the stage and then to each other. Italy smiled enthusiastically to his twin and he leaned in closely to converse with him.

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" he asked.

Romano was about to answer his brother, but he paused and actually took the time to wonder what it was that he was supposed to ponder on. In his semi-drunken stupor, he smirked to Italy and he rested his chin on his brother's left shoulder. "O-Of course not! I ain't no fucking psychic! *hic!*"

Italy started to chuckle and he reached over to hold Romano's hand. "I was thinking that maybe we should say a few words to everyone on stage…and also sing a song together! Are you up to singing, Roma?"

Romano smirked to Italy and he backed away from him. "Singing, eh?" he asked and Italy vigorously nodded his head and grinned. Romano hiccupped and his olive complexion blushed from the effect of the alcohol in his system. "Sure! Why not? *hic!* It ain't a party until somebody breaks out into song! It might as well be us!"

"Veee~! Oh, Grazie, Roma! C'mon, lets go to the stage!" Italy gleefully cried and he stood up. He was about to walk away from the table until Romano gestured him to wait.

"Damn it! Hold on, fratello! I gotta prepare my _voice!_" the nation stubbornly insisted and he began to clear his throat. Then, he picked up his glass of wine, as well as his brother's and he guzzled down the contents from both glasses. Then, he slammed them onto the table and he licked his lips. "_Let's do this!_ *hic!*" he dramatically said and the Italy Brothers walked together to the stage.

As soon as they walked up the steps to the stage, the Perugian citizens began to cheer and whistle to them. When the Italy Brothers stepped onto the stage and stood in front of the microphone stand, the crowd cheered even louder for them.

"BRAVO! BRAVO!"

"SPEECH! SPEECH!"

"VIVA ITALA!"

"THE ITALY BROTHERS _ROOOOOOCCCCCCK!"_

Meanwhile, behind the bushes, Germany and Spain overheard the sudden cheering coming forth from the Square and they sat on their knees and peeped over to see what was happening. Frankie rushed back to their side with his tray dangerously overloaded with food and he sat it onto the ground.

Germany looked to Frankie for answers. "What's going on?" he asked.

"It looks like North and South Italy are going to give a speech! They're on the stage!" the teenager answered. At this moment, Alanzo slipped the cigarette off of his ear and placed it to his lips. He whipped out his lighter and he lit the cigarette. "You think they'll sing?" he asked Frankie as he puffed out a thick cloud of smoke from his nostrils.

"SING?!" Spain ecstatically cried and he became giddy with excitement.

Alanzo looked to Spain and smirked. "Si, they may sing. It's sort of expected. Haven't you ever been to an Italian_party_ before?"

"Uh…I haven't," Germany responded with disappointment.

Alanzo looked to Spain and he winked. "You know how we party – we're Mediterranean! It isn't a party for us until we break out into singing and dancing! And I have a feeling it's going to begin right now!"

"¡MUY BEIN! SING, BABY, SING! WOOO!" Spain suddenly shouted and he whistled catcalls to Romano. Germany panicked and he slapped his hand onto Spain's mouth. "STOP THAT!" he barked. Thankfully, Spain's cheers were completely drowned out by the loud Perugian crowd.

Everyone huddled together to watch what would unfold at the Square. Back at the stage, Italy and Romano stood in front of the microphone stand. Italy waved to everyone and he politely bowed to the audience. Romano, on the other hand, was transfixed on the microphone and he obsessively tapped and blew into it. "Is…Is this thing on? *hic!* - tap tap tap – *blows* EEEEYYY OOHHHH HEEYY!" he suddenly shouted onto the microphone and the Perugian citizens quickly covered their ears and moaned. Romano drunkenly giggled and he gave Italy an A-OK hand gesture and he winked.

"Eh, grazie, fratello!" Italy said and he looked to the crowd. "Buonasera! (Good Evening!) Grazie to everyone for coming to the party tonight! My brother and I are so grateful to you all for wanting to reunite our great city of Perugia! You have made us _very proud!_"

Everybody began to cheer, clap and whistle and a strong sense of solidarity could be felt throughout the Square. Then, the crowd began to demand for the Italy Brothers to perform a song for them.

"SING FOR US!"

"SING! SING! SING!"

"YAAAY! PERFORM FOR US!"

"BRAVO! BRAVO!"

Both Italy and Romano looked to one another and their faces deeply blushed. They laughed amongst themselves and shrugged their shoulders. "Well, we better give them what they want!" Italy cried and Romano grinned. Both nations looked to the band and simply gave them a nod. This _somehow_ got the band to comprehend what to do and they started the play some fast tempo composition. The very moment that the percussion started, the Italy Brothers jumped off the stage and they began to dance in the center of the Square.

Most of the adults, teenagers and a couple of little kids ran up to join the Italy Brothers. Immediately, the crowd segregated themselves into two groups – Italy with the Northern Italians and Romano with the Southern Italians. Both large groups performed a unique folk dance with accordance to their heritage, with the nations leading them on.

Meanwhile, back at the bushes, Frankie, Alanzo and Spain stood up and seductively danced to the music. Germany, however, remained sitting and gawked to the dancing flash mob. "What…the…fuck?!" he slowly cried and he looked over to the tour guides and his friend whom had suddenly posed together in front of them with their arms extended outward. Spain, standing in the middle, grinned happily and cheered. "Mediterranean parties! Ain't they a _hoot?!_"

Germany nervously stared back to the Square and he quickly looked back to Spain. "H-How is this possible?! You can't just randomly break out into choreographed dancing just like _that! _Surly, they must have rehearsed this routine for months or maybe it's a traditional folk dance – "

"Just go with the _fucking bit!_" Alanzo angrily hissed and he flicked his cigarette butt. The nation furiously growled to the Mediterranean men as they continued to dance in place. Then, all four of them focused their attention to the Square and anticipated the singing to commence.

* * *

**Italy**

My name is Veneziano –

_North Italy_ to you!

_Il Nord* _and_ Settentrione* _–

Are my other names, too!

I possess the greatest civilization –

The world has ever seen!

Culture, music, art and food –

Italia reigns supreme!

But I can't take all the credit –

I rule with my dear fratello

He truly is my better half –

South Italy – Romano!

Without him, I am just a leg –

A leg without a foot.

Together, united –

We form a mighty boot!

.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°

**CHORUS**

Together, united –

They form a mighty boot!

Stand proud, dear citizens –

And give them a salute!

(The Northern Italians passionately perform Veneziana folk dance with Italy standing in front of them seductively dancing solo.)

* * *

Germany was taken aback by Italy's performance and he proudly grinned to him. Then, instantaneously, Spain leaped over the bushes and he started dancing toward the flash mob. Germany dashed to the nation and he physically pulled him back. Spain relinquished his hold onto his wrists and he joyously danced and twirled around him. However, his dancing paused when he could see that it was Romano's turn to sing. Germany gripped the nation's shirt collar and he desperately pulled him back behind the bushes. Once they were settled, they watched Romano's performance.

* * *

**Romano**

My name is Romano –

_South Italy_ to you!

_Il Mezzogiorno*_ –

Is my other name, too!

I'm known for agriculture –

My soil's rich and fruit bearing!

My tomatoes ripen in midsummer –

Oh, my harvest is impressing!

But I don't hoard it for myself –

They're for my dear fratello

He's for sure my better half –

North Italy – Veneziano!

Without him, I am just a foot –

A legless foot, you see

With his leg attached to me –

We form a mighty boot, indeed!

.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°

**CHORUS**

Together, united –

They form a mighty boot!

Stand proud, dear citizens –

And give them a salute!

(A tambourine is thrown to Romano and he grabs it and shakes it in front of his face, slowly revealing his smile. He beats it three times and he and Southern Italians, who also have tambourines, perform the Tarantella.)

* * *

Spain whistled and clapped vigorously for Romano's performance. When Romano started to dance the Tarantella with his people, Spain became nostalgic and he recollected moments of himself and Romano as a child dancing the Tarantella together inside the seldom-used ballroom in the royal palace. He even thought about the countless times when his grown-up beloved would intimately dance with him inside their home. Spain _really_ wanted to dance with Romano. Watching him happily expressing himself brought ultimate joy to the nation's heart.

Germany, Spain, Frankie and Alanzo continued to watch the passionate dancing unfold at the Square.

* * *

(Italy and Romano dance together in the center, surrounded by their citizens. Then, a couple of people hold up a long, colorful sheet in-between Italy and Romano, temporarily separating them from each other. Both place their hands onto the sheet, trying to see each other. Then, Romano grips his hands on top of the sheet and he slowly pulls it down, revealing Italy standing in front of him. Romano sadly looked to his brother as he sings.)

**Romano**

Some want us to be divided –

I can't accept this to be true

Our people must be reminded –

That I'd be nothing without you!

(Sheet drops to the ground and Italy steps forward and clasps his hands with Romano's. They devotedly stare into each other's eyes while Italy sings.)

**Italy**

We shall always be together –

As we have since Time begun

We'll love each other forever –

Our hearts beat as one!

(Romano slowly walks behind Italy as he sings and he embraces him from behind. He seductively motions his hips against Italy's backside as he sings to him.)

**Romano**

Oh, I'm so blessed to have you –

You're the leg to my foot!

We have wrought together… –

(Romano tilts Italy's head back; they lovingly face one another and slowly lean in closely for a kiss. But instead, they separate. Italy's right hand is clasped with Romano's left hand and they extend their arms upward. They gleefully smile to everyone and sing.)

**Both**

A mighty, sturdy boot!

* * *

Instantly, blood began squirting out of both Germany and Spain's nostrils and their jaws dropped from the sexy interaction between the Italy Brothers. Spain's hands begin to tremble and he anxiously tugged on his shirt collar. He timidly looked to Germany and he suddenly embraces his right arm. "Ludwig! I'm so _hot and bothered!_" he lustfully whined.

Germany's muscles tightened up and he looked to Spain with horror. He extended his left arm over to slowly force the nation to relinquish his hold onto his arm. "I-I _can't help_ _you_ with this!" he nervously cried and he clenched his eyes shut.

* * *

(The Italy Brothers are still holding hands and they grab tambourines that are thrown to them with their other hands. They perform the Tarantella together and they sing in harmony.)

**Italy Brothers**

Together, united –

We form a mighty boot!

Stand proud, dear citizens –

And give us a salute!

(Northern and Southern Italians integrate and dance around the Italy Brothers in a circle.)

**CHORUS**

Together, united –

They form a mighty boot!

Stand proud, dear citizens –

And give them a salute!

(The Italy Brothers stop holding hands and they throw their tambourines in the air to be caught by two individuals. Italy points his left leg outward and gestures to it with his hands.)

**Italy**

I'm your leg –

(Romano lifts up his right leg and wiggles his foot.)

**Romano**

To my foot!

(The Italy Brothers spin once and hold hands again.)

**Both**

Together, united –

_Never _divided –

We form a mighty, sturdy boot!

**Everyone**

SALUTE!

(Everyone poses with their arms held upward. The Italy Brothers are given two oversized Italian flags. They victoriously hold them up. Everyone begins to cheer, whistle and clap.)

* * *

"BRAVO! BRAVO!" Everyone gaily cheered and the Italy Brothers took a couple of bows to their enthusiastic audience. Then, the band started to play a fast tempo folk song and the Perugian citizens got together and danced to the wonderful music. Both Italy and Romano stood in the center of the Square, surrounded by their dancing citizens and they devotedly smiled to one another. "We did it, Roma!" Italy softly uttered.

"Si, we sure did! *hic!*" Romano concurred and he gently pulled his brother closely to his body. Then, they wrapped their arms around each other in a loving, brotherly embrace. Romano's glazed eyes looked up to the starlit sky as he held Italy in his arms, giving thanks to God for the success in reuniting the city of Perugia. Italy tenderly pressed his face onto Romano's shoulder and he slowly nuzzled against him. Afterwards, they pulled away from each other and they kissed one another's cheeks. They both broke out into joyous laughter and Romano's hiccups started to increase.

Suddenly, some members of their citizens caught their attention by yanking their suit sleeves. "DANCE WITH US!" they happily insisted. The Italy Brothers gladly agreed and they joined in.

Back at the bushes, both Germany and Spain silently sat together in awe at their partners' achievements. They felt tremendous pride for them for all the hard effort they put into bringing the city together again. They spotted Frankie and Alanzo in the large crowd, enjoying the festivities. Spain picked up his wine glass and he held it up as he looked to Germany.

"Salud! (Cheers!)" he delightfully cheered.

Germany smirked to his friend and he lifted up his own wine glass. "Zum Wohl! (Cheers!)" he responded and the nations clinked their glasses.

* * *

**Key Terms**

_Il Nord _– "The North."

_Settentrione –_ "The North." Example: _Il Settentrione d'Italia (The North of Italy)._

_Il Mezzogiorno – _"The Midday." This is a traditional name for the regions of Southern Italy. The name represents the brightness of the Sun in midafternoon that South Italy experiences.

* * *

Two hours had passed since the musical number was performed and the party seemed as if it would never come to an end. Everyone was enjoying each other's company both at the numerous dining tables and the dancing section of the Square. The children, including Apollonia, Martino and Fabrizio were having fun playing around the Fontana Maggiore. The older children, teenagers and adults were relaxing in their seats consuming their portions of homemade desserts and espresso coffees. Italy and Romano courteously conversed with their people sitting around them and to those who came up to them.

Meanwhile, back behind the bushes, Germany and Spain were madly gobbling up their desserts. They could not get over how delicious everything tasted. Frankie and Alanzo sat beside the nations, sipping their espressos and lightly biting off tiny portions of their fruit-shaped marzipan.

Germany stabbed a thick slice of cake and shoved it into his mouth. He passionately moaned as his taste buds savored the overpowering sweetness coming forth from the cake. After he swallowed, he pointed to his plate with his fork and looked to the teenagers. "What is this called again?!" he excitedly asked.

Frankie smirked to the eager nation and he settled his espresso cup onto its saucer. "It's called _Cassata!_ My Mama made that cake! It's a Sicilian dessert!"

"It's absolutely delicious! Hey, Ant! Does Romano have a recipe for Cassata?"

Spain chuckled from his friend's hyper behavior and he nodded. "Si! He has a recipe, but he seldom ever bakes it. It's sort of complicated to make."

Germany tapped his index finger onto the surface of his plate, collecting bits of crumbs to eat. "Would it be possible if you could convince him to bake a cake for _me?_" he asked and then licked up the crumbs off of his finger.

Spain grinned to the nation and he licked up a bit of his almond sprinkled cannoli. "I think I can do this! I won't tell him it's for you, of course. God knows what he'd do to it if I did!"

Germany smiled and he settled his plate onto the grass. He picked up his paper napkin and he began wiping his hands clean. "Danke! And I still owe you some cannoli from Feli. Perhaps we can make our sweet exchange next weekend."

"Hey! That would be great! ¡Gracias!"

The nations continue to devour their desserts and drinking their coffees while Frankie and Alanzo quietly conversed with one another. Alanzo lit another cigarette and he started to smoke. Then, Frankie looked to his watch to check the time. "Oh man, it's almost midnight! Don't you have to work tomorrow?" he asked.

Alanzo groaned and rolled his eyes. "God, yes I do. Damn it!" he complained.

"HA! I get to sleep in tomorrow! Thanks for getting me fired!" Frankie teased and he wedged a watermelon sliced marzipan into his mouth and smiled. Alanzo glared to him and he angrily puffed his cigarette. Then, he stood himself up and brushed off is pants. "Well, then. I best be going," he announced and he briefly squatted down to the nations' level and firmly shook their hands. "It was a pleasure meeting you both," he said.

"Likewise!" Spain answered. Germany simply nodded, although he held a different opinion for the brash tour guide. At this moment, Frankie scooted closely to the nations and he extended his hand to them. "I'm going, too. I'm sure my family's wondering what I've been doing this whole time."

Germany shook Frankie's hand. "Dankeschön for your assistance today, especially with your advice," he said.

Suddenly, Spain hugged the teenager and quickly shook his hand. "¡Muchas Gracias! You were a lifesaver! I'll never forget your kindness!" he cried.

"Eh, it was nothing," Frankie murmured and his cheeks flushed. Then, he stood himself up and he collected his dirty plates, as well as Alanzo's and the nations'. "Good luck finding the Italies' 'families!' Stay safe, you guys! And don't worry, we won't tell a soul about what you're doing!"

"Thank you!" the nations said in unison.

"Arrivederci!" Frankie said and both he and Alanzo started to walk toward the Square. But then, Frankie paused and he turned back to Germany and Spain. "One more thing…" he trailed as he got the nations' attention. Then, he cried out to them with great insistence to his tone. _"Stay out of Sicily!"_ Finally, he turned around and both teenagers walked away together. The nations watched Frankie step up to a table to drop off the dishes. Then, both he and Alanzo walked to the heavy crowd and blended in, being out of sight.

"Frankie was a great help today! I don't know what I would have done without him!" Spain said.

"He's a good kid. I hope that we run into other friendly people like him on our upcoming travels through Italy," Germany said.

"Me too. That would be great if we did!" Spain concurred. Both nations watched the Italy Brothers dining, laughing and visiting with their people. Spain cracked up when he observed many Perugian citizens insisting on posing with their nations for photographs. It was amusing to see Romano being a willing participant and smiling for the camera phones without being difficult about it. "He so tranquil tonight, my Lovi," Spain said.

Germany smiled as he watched the Perugian citizens crowding around the Italy Brothers and joyously smiling and waving to their friends and family holding up their camera phones. "Ja, so is Feli…they're both so happy together. I'm glad to see that everything today was resolved. I'm very proud of them."

Spain looked away from the Square and he stared to Germany. "You're even proud of Lovi?" he gasped.

Germany looked to Spain and he nodded. "Ja, I am," he answered.

Spain began chuckling and he smiled to his friend. "I never would have thought that you'd say something positive about him!"

"Well, I just did. Hey…what exactly did Romano say to the little girl in her bedroom? What was his advice to her?"

"Oh, it's a long story, but I'll tell you everything when we hit the road."

Germany reached inside his short pocket to retrieve his cellphone to check the time. When he saw on the screen that it was going to be Midnight, he decided it was the appropriate moment to go. "We better leave now. It's getting late," he said as he slipped the cellphone back inside his pocket.

"Right now? But the party's still going on!" Spain whined.

"I know that. But I don't want us to leave around the same time as they do. I wouldn't want us to be driving beside them on the road."

"Oh, yeah! That would be awkward!" Spain said and he sat himself up on his knees. He looked over to the Square and spotted one of the buffet tables that had all the dessert platters on it. He then nudged Germany with his left elbow and he stood himself up. "I'm going to get us some snacks for the road! I'll be right back!" he excitedly said and he casually walked over to the Square.

"What?! Nein! Don't! It isn't necess – _ANT! GET BACK HERE!_" Germany furiously hissed in a dry whisper. But Spain ignored his petition and he headed over to the buffet table. He picked up an empty white take-out box and he quickly placed some cannoli, cassata and other delicious Italian sweets into it. He sealed the bloated box shut and he cradled it in his arms. He was about to head back to the bushes until he glanced over to his beloved Romano sitting not too far away from him.

Spain decided to do something bold and spontaneous. He ran up to the dining table where the Italy Brothers were sitting. The nation squeezed himself in-between some Perugian citizens who were crowding around Italy and Romano. When he was able to get full access to Romano, he suddenly leaned in closely to the nation's right side and gave his partner a kiss on his cheek. Then, he madly ran away and dashed toward the bushes, concealing his face with the take-out box.

Romano was taking a bite of his chocolate chip cannoli until he suddenly felt a pair of warm lips pressing against his face. The nation's brown eyes widened and he let out a gasp. He looked to his right to see who had kissed him. He ruled out that it could not have been one of his citizens to have randomly kissed him; they were too busy looking over their photographs on their smartphones. So Romano looked to his brother, who was sipping on his espresso. He had assumed that it was Italy who had kissed him. So the nation slowly leaned in and he gave him a kiss onto his cheek.

"Mmm!" Italy moaned as he felt his brother's lips while sipping his coffee. He sat his cup down on the table and he glanced to Romano with surprise. "W-What was that for?" he asked.

"What do you mean? *hic!* Y-You just kissed me!" Romano remarked.

"No, I didn't!" Italy softly retorted.

"Y-You didn't?! *hic!* B-But I felt somebody kiss my face! I could have sworn that it happened – " Suddenly, Romano stopped talking as Italy leaned closely to him, giving him a kiss on his cheek. Italy leaned back and he gleefully smiled to his brother. "_Now_ I did!" he teased.

Romano drunkenly reached over and placed his hands onto Italy's face. He gave his brother a passionate kiss onto his cheek. Italy started to giggle and he returned the gesture by kissing Romano's cheek. Finally, the Italy Brothers hugged one another, causing the Perugian citizens to woo and applause over their affectionate interaction.

Spain sprinted toward Germany and he dramatically leaped over the bushes. "C'mon! ¡Vayámonos! (Lets go!)" he cried and he continued to run down the street. Germany shakily wiped away the perspiration that was collecting onto his forehead. Watching Spain fearlessly give affection to Romano was too much for him to handle. He stood himself up from the grass and he started to run to Spain's direction.

"Scheiße! Wait for me!" he commanded. Spain suddenly paused and he waited for the nation to catch up to him. When Germany was finally standing next to him, Spain grinned and he linked his arm with his friend's. "Take me home, _spy buddy!_" he exclaimed.

"Mmmph," Germany hesitantly expressed as Spain linked his arm to him. Together, they walked down the alleyway that would lead them to where the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen was parked.

* * *

The time was now 12:25AM. The Perugian citizens were beginning to clean up the Square and collecting some leftover food and desserts for them to take home. The Italy Brothers tried offering their services by helping their people with the clean up job, but the citizens refused to let them do so. They were their guests of honor, after all. So, the Italy Brothers started to collect whatever food they wanted to take home to share with their partners.

Romano clumsily held his empty take-out box with one hand while his other hand possessed a pair of tongs. He drunkenly plopped cannoli into his box and he spoke to his brother, who stood next to him. He, too, was collecting desserts into his own take-out box.

"Y-You see what I-I'm doin' here?" Romano slurred as he waved the tongs like a magic wand, "*hic!* I'm taking home some _cannoli_ for my _Toni,_" he said. Then, his lovely brown eyes widened with shock and he suddenly dropped his take-out box and the tongs onto the buffet table. Romano grabbed Italy's shoulders and he roughly shook him back and fourth. "VENEZIANO! VENEZIANO! DID YOU HEAR WHAT I JUST SAID?! *hic!*" he joyously shouted.

"EHHH!" Italy cried and he tightly held onto his take-out box, fearing that he could drop it any second. "I-I think I did – "

"Listen to this, okay? Now listen to this *hic!* - I'm bringing home some _can-no-li _for my _To-ni!_ PFFT! C-Can you believe that I thought that up _myself?!_ AHAHA! *hic!*" Romano roared with laughter and he picked up the tongs and nudged Italy's chest with them.

Italy nervously laughed and he patted Romano's back. "T-That's wonderful! How very clever of you!" he encouraged.

"Well, duh! No shit! I'm going to say this to Toni when you drop me off at my house! *hic!* Don't make me forget! It's s-so incredibly epic!"

"Of course! No problem, Roma!" Italy replied and he reached over to grab Romano's take-out box. He helped his brother to fill it up with sweets and he sealed it shut on his behalf. "There we go! You're all set!" he said.

"G-Grazie! *hic!*" Romano murmured. He watched Italy fill up his own take-out box and sealing it shut. Italy then grabbed a paper sack and he placed both take-out boxes inside it.

"I think it's time for us to go home. It's very late," Italy said. Romano simply nodded in agreement. The Italy Brothers walked together to their citizens and told everyone that they were ready to depart. Immediately, they were bombarded with hugs, kisses and well wishes. Even the little children who were struggling to stay awake said their goodbyes to their beloved nations. Fabrizio, Martino and Apollonia especially gave their salutations to Italy and Romano by giving them kisses onto their faces. Finally, the Giordano's and the Bartalotti's said their final emotional goodbyes to the nations.

"Grazie, North Italy and South Italy for everything you've done for us!" said Mrs. Giordano.

"Si! We are forever grateful for your compassion toward us!" said Mr. Bartalotti.

"You're very welcome! And we should be thanking you – all of you – for your efforts in healing this wonderful city of ours!" Italy cried.

Mr. Giordano smiled to both Italy and Romano and he shook their hands one final time. "It never could have happened if it hadn't been for you!" he said.

Both Italy and Romano modestly looked away and blushed. They were taken aback by Mr. Giordano's words. The rest of the citizens crowding around gave them praise. After a while, the Square became silent. They knew it was time for their nations to depart.

Both Italy and Romano looked to one another and then to the crowd. Romano spoke first, gesturing his hands as he said his goodbyes. "Arrivederci and thank you for your hospitality! *hic!*"

The Perugian citizens began to tear up with emotion. Italy observed this and he kindly reassured their people. "Please don't be sad! This isn't a final farewell! We'll return to Perugia in the future! Don't worry!"

"Si! We'll come again soon!" Romano concurred.

The Perugian citizens nodded their heads and some wiped their wet faces. Italy and Romano smiled to their people and they gave them one final goodbye. Then, they both turned around and they began to walk side by side down the street where Italy's vehicle was parked. As they solemnly strolled ahead, the silence in the Square was disturbed by shouting and a declaration of patriotism by the Perugian citizens.

"VIVA ITALIA! (LONG LIVE ITALY!) VIVA! VIVA! VIVA!" they mightily declared and they clapped and cheered on behalf of the Italy Brothers. Both Italy and Romano stopped walking and they quickly turned around. They grinned to their people and they waved to them for a final time. Then, the nations made their departure from the Square.

Italy linked his arm with Romano's, assisting him due to his imbalanced posture from being intoxicated. When they walked up to Italy's Lamborghini, he pulled out his car keys, pressed a button on his remote and unlocked the doors. "What a night we've had, eh Roma?" he asked.

"Si! It was fantastic! Everything turned out marvelous! *hic!* Didn't I tell you that it would?"

"You did! You were right, fratello! I'm so happy!"

"So am I!"

Italy opened the passenger door for Romano and he waited for him to settle himself in his seat. As Romano unlinked his arm with his brother, Italy made an observation about him. "You didn't get _too_ drunk tonight! I'm proud of you!" he said.

Romano turned around and he snorted to his brother. "Oh, Venezinao! I'm only getting _started!_" he teased and he unbuttoned his suit jacket and opened the right side, revealing an unopened bottle of red wine stashed away inside an inner pocket.

"OH, NO!" Italy groaned and he face-palmed himself. Romano pulled out the bottle of wine and slipped it in-between his thighs, holding it in place. His right hand suggestively motioned at the tip of the bottle as he struggled to pull off the cork. When it finally loosened up, he bopped his hips once in a humping motion and the cork popped off, flying across the street. "AHA! FUCK YEAH!" he victoriously shouted and he immediately began chugging down the wine.

"GAH! Eh, Roma! _Please_ don't drink inside the car! I don't my interior to get ruined!" Italy nervously cried as he tried to take the wine bottle out of Romano's hands, but his brother stubbornly pushed him away and he clumsily plopped himself into the car. "S-Stop that! I ain't gonna spill nothin'! *hic!*"

"B-But Roma – "

"BUT NOTHIN'! *hic!* Now c'mon! Drive me home, damn it!" Romano barked and he stashed the wine bottle into a compartment in-between the front car seats. Italy heavily sighed and he closed Romano's passenger door. He walked around to the driver's side, opened the door and sat himself down. He closed the door and he slipped his key into the ignition. As the engine thunderously roared, he meekly looked to Romano and he hesitantly spoke to him.

"R-Roma…please don't do anything _foolish_ while I drive. Capisce?"

Romano smugly stared at him and his hands flapped exaggeratedly as he responded to his brother's petition. "Since when have I _ever_ been a fool?! I ain't no _fool_, you bastard! *hic!* I-I'M A GREAT SAGE! I'm like, an _enigma_, or somethin'. Don't you forget that!"

"B-But – "

"DON'T FORGET! *hic!*"

"Ehh! Okay! Okay! I-I won't forget!" Italy cried and he nervously the vehicle's gears into Drive. Then, he turned on the headlights and he started driving down the empty street. While he was focusing on the road, Romano turned on the radio and he pressed a button in search of a good station.

* * *

The Italy Brothers were nearing Spain's estate after hours of traveling from Perugia. Romano had the radio playing full blast and he was drunkenly dancing in his seat. Italy had wanted his brother to settle down and stop his unorthodox behavior, but at the same time, he was really relishing on how silly Romano was acting out. Italy found himself giving in to his twin's tipsiness by rhythmically dancing behind the wheel with him and singing along to their favorite songs. By the time they had reached Spain's residence, Romano was plopped onto Italy's lap, snapping his fingers to Riccardo Fogli playing on the radio.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Here's a link to one of Riccardo Fogli's songs. It's my absolute favorite! Plus, I think he's *really* hot. (youtube-dot-com-slash watch?v=gpTucUdRnTc

Hmm, looks like he and Italy are wearing similar suits! What good taste! XD

* * *

"We're here, Roma!" Italy exclaimed as he made a sharp turn to enter the driveway.

"FINALLY! *hic!*" Romano shouted and he struggled to get himself up in sitting position. As Italy parked his Lamborghini in front of the Spanish Villa, Romano opened the passenger side door and he staggered out of the vehicle. He hurried up the front steps to his home and he pulled out his keys to unlock the door. "Ah, let's see…*hic!* which key is it again?" he asked himself as he swayed in place.

Inside the house, Spain was sitting on the living room couch dressed in his pajamas, waiting for his beloved's return. His ears perked up when he overhead the bellowing 80's Italian music playing outside and he quickly stood up and rushed over to peek outside from one of the windows. He happily grinned when he spotted Italy's Lamborghini parked outside. "They're back!" he exclaimed. When he saw Romano coming up the front steps and fumbling with his house keys, Spain took it upon himself to open the front door on his behalf. He hurried over to it and he unlocked the door. The very moment that the nation opened the door, Romano dropped his keys and he looked up to his partner.

"HEEEY, TONI!" Romano drunkenly shouted and he staggered up to him. Spain opened his arms to him and Romano passionately embraced him.

"¡Buenas Noches, Lovi!" Spain lovingly answered and he wrapped his arms around him. Both men slowly swayed side to side as they held one another. Romano looked to his beloved and he released a hiccup. Spain smirked to him the moment he did this and he kissed the top of Romano's nose. "Somebody's been _drinking_ tonight!" he stated.

Romano nodded his head, admitting his intoxication to him. As Spain leaned in closely to kiss him on the lips, Romano frowned and he fidgeted in his arms. "N-No! Don't kiss me! N-Not in front of my brother! *hic!*" he ordered.

"Oh, my modest Tomate! I've missed you so much! Let me kiss you just once –"

"N-No! Wait for Veneziano to leave first –" Suddenly, Romano's voice fell silent as Spain moist lips slowly brushed against his own, tempting him to receive his kiss. Romano stubbornly resisted his partner's alluring request by clenching his mouth shut. But the more he resisted, the more Spain seductively enticed him into giving in. Spain nuzzled his cheek against Romano's and his lips gave gentle pecks onto the blushing nation's face, traveling down with each peck to his neck.

_"Y-You bastard…"_ he breathlessly whispered and he succumbed in giving Spain a long, amorous kiss onto his lips. Their embrace tightened as they expressed their yearning for one another; their mouths feverishly smacked and suckled and both men softly gasped for breath between each prolonged kiss. Finally, they pulled away from each other, their eyes glistening with desire. As Spain caressed Romano's face with his hand, the tipsy nation released another high-pitched hiccup and his blushing cheeks intensified in color.

"Aww! So cute!" Spain cried and he nuzzled closely to his partner. Romano expressed a deep, soft giggle as he was being doted on. This intimate setting between them, however, would be interrupted by Italy, who stood in front of them at the top step to the estate.

Immediately, Romano tensed up and he bitterly looked to his twin, who was looking at him and Spain with admiration. _"Veee~...how romantic…"_ said Italy with devotion.

"Veneziano! Why do you stand there and watch us?! S-Stop that!" Romano complained. Spain grinned to Italy and he gestured him to come to his side. Italy, with take-out box in hand, walked up to Spain and they greeted one another by kissing each other's cheeks.

"I'm so glad that you've had a safe travel here! Did you two have a good visit?" he inquired.

"Si! We sure did!" Italy answered and Romano dramatically nodded once in agreement.

"Aww! That's wonderful! I'm so glad to hear that!" Spain exclaimed and he wrapped his right arm around Italy while holding onto Romano with his left arm. He hugged them tightly against his body and he nervously started to laugh as he recalled watching the Italy Brothers intimately dancing together at the Square in Perugia. He could sense that a nosebleed could happen any second and he quickly sniffled his nose while he released his hold onto the twins. "Hey! Lets go inside! I-It's chilly out here! Can you stay for awhile, Feli?"

"Well, it's getting pretty late, but I suppose that I could stay, if only for a few minutes – "

"If you want, you could spend the night here with _us_…_upstairs…in our room_…_eh-heh…_" Spain suddenly interrupted as he lustfully gave his invitation to Italy. Both Italy and Romano looked to one another with confusion and they gawked to Spain, whose nervous laughter intensified. Romano frowned to his partner for suggesting such a perverted idea and he smacked Spain on the shoulder. "What the fuck…*hic!*…the fuck did you say, Toni?!" he angrily cried.

"Eh-heh! W-What I meant was that you could stay in the _guest room_ that's next to ours! Yeah, that's it!" Spain stammered and he expressed a cheesy smile. Romano and Italy were easily convinced by his explanation and they smiled to him. "Ah, I see!" Italy said and he poked Spain's face. "Grazie for the invite! But I'll be all right driving home tonight."

"No problem!" Spain said and the three gentlemen walked inside the house. As they stood inside the entranceway, Italy remembered what Romano wanted to do in regards to the take-out box. "Oh, Roma! Don't you have something to give to Antonio?" he cheerfully asked. Romano looked to his brother with sheer confusion until Italy playfully held up the take-out box, gesturing it in a dancing motion.

"MIO DIO!" Romano frantically gasped and he started to excitedly laugh. He rushed up to his brother and was handed the take-out box. "I'm gonna say it now, fratello! I'm gonna say it, *hic!* get ready! This is gonna be epic! *hic!* Shhh! Shhh!" he excitedly cried. Then he turned his attention to his partner, who stood in front of him.

"What's in the box, tesoro? (sweetheart?)" Spain asked, knowing quite well what he would be expecting.

Romano stood giddily in place and he happily held out the take-out box to him. "I brought some CAN-NO-LI for my TO-NI! *hic!* PFFT! I thought that up _myself!_" Romano let out a snort and he hid his sheepish smile with his hand.

Spain grinned to his beloved and he accepted the take-out box in one hand, while he wrapped his left arm around Romano. "You did?! ¡Dios Mio! My Lovi is a _poet!_ ¡Gracias, darling! That was very nice of you!" he lovingly said and he kissed Romano's forehead. Romano continued to laugh out loud and he proudly stood next to Spain, relishing his sincere praise for his cleverness. Italy was giggling as well as he watched Spain doting over his brother; he adored how _accepting_ he was of Romano no matter how his behavior was like. It touched him deeply to see how much his brother was loved.

Spain brought his arm away from Romano. He held onto the take-out box with both hands and he was about to walk down the entranceway step until he was questioned. "Where are you going?" Romano asked.

"I'm going to put this in the fridge," Spain answered.

"Here, let me do it *hic!*" Romano insisted and he stepped up to Spain and tried to retrieve the box out of his hands. Spain gently tugged back, refusing to relinquish his hold on it.

"No, Lovi! It's okay, I'll put it away – "

"I-I want to do it! *hic!* I know where the kitchen is! I've only lived in this house since the 17th Century! *hic!* H-Hand it over!"

"Okay! Okay, here you go!" Spain caved in and he gave Romano the box. Romano smugly nodded and he looked back to Spain as he mindlessly walked forward, forgetting about the upcoming step down from the entranceway.

"I don't want you to scarfing down all this cannoli in one sitting. Try to make it last – _AHHHHHHH!_" Suddenly, Romano screeched in a high unmanly pitch as he lost his footing and falling onto the Spanish tiled floor, belly flopping on top of the take-out box.

"LOVINO! – ROMA!" Both Spain and Italy cried and they rushed over to Romano's side; he was lying lifelessly on the floor like a slug. Italy and Spain knelt down to the unresponsive nation and Spain shook Romano's shoulder as an attempt to get his attention. "Lovino! Aw, honey! Are you all right?!" he cried.

"Talk to us, fratello!" Italy nervously said as he shook Romano's other shoulder.

"Ugghh," Romano moaned and his body began to move. He slowly brought his arms propped so he could push himself up. As he did this, both Italy and Spain assisted him as they brought him in sitting position. Suddenly, they both let out a gasp as they saw that Romano's chest was coated with broken fried shells and thick crème that_was _the cannoli. Romano's face was also lightly splattered with crème and chocolate chips.

Romano looked down to the floor and he noticed the smashed up paper box. His mouth slowly opened and his lips began to tremble. Slowly, his glazed eyes looked down upon his chest and he saw the smashed cannoli smeared on his expensive suit. His clammy hands reached up to touch his face and he felt the bits of cannoli on his cheeks and chin. Immediately, Romano let out a shriek and he drunkenly started to sob. "NOOO! NO CANNOLI! *hic!* NO CANNOLI FOR MY TOOOONI! WAAAAH!" he pathetically wailed.

"Oh, no! Oh, honey, please don't cry! No more tears! N-No more tears!" Spain said in a sweet tone. Then, he clasped his hands together and he repeatedly gestured his arms while he charmed his sobbing partner.

"Fusosososo~…Fusosososo~…Fusosososo~…Fusosososo~…"

Romano's wailing slowly subsided as his eyes transfixed on Spain's motioning hands. Finally, his crying stopped and he calmly watched and listened to his beloved's happiness charm. When Spain stopped motioning his arms, Romano looked at him with a blank expression on his face, until he suddenly let out a deep snort. Then, he broke out into uncontrollable laughter and his hiccupping increased.

Spain grinned to Romano and he patted his head. "There we go, baby…don't be upset now. It's not the end of the world! We can always make our own cannoli!" Then, he reached over and gently dragged his index finger across Romano's splattered face, scooping up some crème and chocolate chips. He brought his finger to his mouth and he licked it up. _"Mmm!_ _Delicious!"_ he exclaimed.

Romano smiled to his partner and he drunkenly wrapped his arms around Spain in a warm embrace. Spain squirmed as he felt the chilled crème seeping through his nightshirt. He pretended to be oblivious to it all and he held Romano in his arms. After kissing the side of his head, he looked to Italy, who had stood himself up and was standing behind his brother. He silently mouthed to him how many _bottles_ of wine did Romano drink tonight and Italy held up his hand, showing four fingers.

Spain briefly face-palmed himself, then he looked back to Italy and he pointed to the kitchen. Italy understood what Spain wanted him to do – get a glass of water for Romano. He gave him an A-OK signal, smiled and he proceeded to walk to the kitchen. Romano pulled away from Spain and he looked into his emerald eyes. Spain was about to say something to him until a sudden lip lock by Romano stifled him. He kissed him deeply and he seductively suckled on Spain's tongue. Spain softly moaned and he caressed Romano's back. He returned the gesture of sucking and wrestling with his tongue, which highly enticed the tipsy nation.

As their kissing became more passionate, Italy returned to them holding a glass of water and some paper towels to be used to clean Romano up. He blushed profusely as he watched his brother being intimate with Spain and he affectionately awed. "Veee~…"

Suddenly, Romano's eyes opened and he stopped kissing Spain. He looked to his brother and he grimaced to him. "VENEZIANO! STOP WATCHING US! *hic!*" he shouted and he folded his arms.

Italy giggled and he held out the glass of water to Romano. "Forgive me, fratello! Here, take this!" he said. Romano scoffed and he unfolded his arms. He accepted the glass of water and he sipped his drink. Spain took the paper towels from Italy and he gently started wiping Romano's face while he was drinking his water. "There we go, baby!" he said.

Italy pulled his suit sleeve back to glimpse at his watch. When he saw how late it was becoming, he knelt down to both Spain and Romano. "I'm heading off, you guys! You have a good night! I love you both!" he said and he formally kissed them goodbye.

"Aww! ¡Buenas Noches, Feli! Drive safely! Te amo!" Spain said and he kissed his cheeks while he settled Romano's empty glass onto the floor.

"Buonanotte, fratello *hic!* Ti amo," Romano responded after kissing Italy's face. Then, Italy stood up and he walked up to the front door that was left ajar. He looked back to the nations and he smiled to them. "Take care, you two!" he said and he exited the house, closing the door behind him.

Both Spain and Romano looked to one another again. Spain doted on his partner as he tried dabbing off the cannoli from his suit. "I'll drop this off at the dry cleaner's tomorrow," he commented and he settled the soiled paper towels to the side. He smiled to Romano and he watched him release a deep yawn. "My Tomate is getting sleepy," he said.

"S-Si," Romano mumbled.

Spain leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. "So you really had a good time with your brother, huh?" he asked.

"Si, I-I did…*hic!*"

Spain cunningly looked to Romano as he asked his next question, anticipating at how his partner would respond to it under the influence. "So...what did you two do today?"

Romano released another deep yawn and he rested himself against Spain's chest. "Oh, the usual…*hic!*…just spending time with _the family,_" he softly murmured.

Spain looked down to Romano with sheer surprise. _'The family? What could he possibly mean by that?'_ he thought. He pondered for a moment for any explanation to Romano's vague statement. _'Perhaps he's referring to the little Southerner girl's family…he was with them most of the day…that must be it. He's not making any sense right now,'_he rationally concluded. But out of curiosity, he wanted to know how Romano would explain himself to him by asking further upon the topic matter.

"Lovi…who exactly _is_ 'the family'?"

He waited for Romano to give an answer to his question, but he did not utter another word. Spain looked down to his beloved only to see that Romano had fallen asleep in his arms. He began to deeply snore and he gently clung to his shoulders. "Aww, Lovi," Spain kindly murmured as he stroked Romano's dark hair. "Don't you worry…I'll find out who they are…eventually."

Then, he carefully stood himself up, lifting Romano in his arms and he proceeded in carrying him upstairs to their bedroom. As he walked up the spiral staircase, he recalled about the ominous reputation that Frankie had told him about Romano and his ties with the Mafia. He wondered how much information his partner was keeping from him and, more importantly, if his life would be at stake if he and Germany were to travel down to his half of Italy. He wondered also about the supposed 'family' that Romano had unexpectedly mentioned. Did he have a double-life? Does he have a family – a wife and offspring? And if so, why had he and Germany not seen any evidence of their existence?

Spain glanced down to look at Romano. He imagined him being a child again, wearing his pink maid's outfit and white apron. He recollected on the countless times that he had to carry him to bed after he overindulged on food binges during his lackluster work hours. He softly chuckled and he caressed his partner's hair, as his image of him returned to his current adult form.

_'Those were simpler times,' _he thought as he looked to him, _'Despite being a pain once in while, you were a good child. I watched you grow up. I know you so well like the back of my hand. So what are you keeping from me, my love? Why must we have secrets between us?'_

Spain walked up to the top step of the staircase and he proceeded to walk down the hallway toward their bedroom. As he walked through the hallway and entered the master bedroom, he continued to mentally converse with Romano in his head. _'Whatever it is, mi amor, I won't be angry with you. If it's the Mafia, I'll turn a blind eye. I respect your history; they are a part of your heritage. If your 'family' consists of a wife and child…or children…or even grandchildren…I would love them as much as I love you…if you allow me to know them…"_

Spain walked into their moonlit bedroom and he propped some pillows against the headboard to their king sized bed. He carefully settled himself on the mattress while he cradled the slumbering Romano in his arms. He reached over to slip off his partner's leather shoes and settling them to his side. He quietly watched his _husband_ sleeping in his arms, observing the precious movement of his chest effortlessly inhaling and exhaling. Spain held on to Romano's left hand and he devotedly rubbed the Spanish crested ring that he wore on it.

_'Darling…if you do have a family of your own…I forgive you…I won't hold any resentment against you or to them, either. Our marriage together isn't __real__, after all...you haven't broken any marital bond…but no matter what happens, Lovino, I will always love you…and I hope to God that you will continue to love me, too…'_

"Mmmph," Romano softly moaned as he shifted in Spain's arms. He slowly opened his handsome brown eyes and he caught his beloved watching him sleep. "W-Why do you stare? *hic!*" he uttered.

Spain smiled to Romano and he caressed his olive-complexion face. "Forgive me, darling…but I can't help myself…you are so _beautiful,_" he lovingly responded.

Romano's glazed over eyes lightened up and he looked up to Spain with admiration. "Just the way I am?" he asked, recalling the heartfelt advice that was said to him when he was a child.

"Si…just the way you are," Spain answered. Romano nudged his face against Spain's caressing hand and he began to slowly kiss his palm. After a few small pecks, he brought the hand away from his lips, revealing his tiny smile. Spain shifted his arms underneath Romano's body and he propped him at a higher elevation. Finally, he pressed his lips onto his spouse's. Romano wrapped his arms around Spain's neck and he hungrily accepted his beloved's tongue into his mouth. They both amorously kissed one another for a little while until they both succumbed into unconsciousness, tightly embracing in an unbreakable bond.

* * *

Italy unlocked the front door to his home and he tiptoed inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. He headed to the kitchen to place his take-out box inside the refrigerator. When this task was completed, he walked back toward the staircase and proceeded to walk up to the second level. When he eventually walked up to his master bedroom, he carefully pushed the door wider and he glimpsed inside the lit room. Italy smiled lovingly when he saw Germany sleeping on his side of the king sized bed; He had his reading glasses on his face and an opened book resting on his chest.

Italy quietly stepped inside the bedroom. The moment that he made his presence known, the household pets woke up immediately to greet him. Italy motioned his hand up to his lips, gesturing to the dogs not to make any noise. They obeyed him and the nation knelt down to hug each dog and the two cats. "Sorry I'm late," he softly murmured. Then, he stood himself up, walked into the bathroom and he changed his clothes. After a few minutes, he came back out wearing a sky blue undershirt and white boxers. He carried his suit and shoes over to his closet. He opened the closet door and proceeded to hang up his clothes and putting his leather shoes away in their shoebox.

Italy tried to be quiet as he settled his things into his closet, but the dull tapping of the wooden hangers caught the attention of Germany and he eventually woke up by it. He observed his partner exiting his closet and closing the door. When Italy turned his attention to the bed, Germany quickly shut his eyes, pretending to be asleep. Italy smiled to his beloved and he walked up to his side of the bed. He carefully slipped off his reading glasses, folding them and settling them onto his bedside table. He then took his book, dog-eared the corner of the page to save his spot, and closed it shut. He set the book onto the table next to Germany's reading glasses.

_'I'm home, sweetheart,'_ Italy thought while he gently ran his fingers through Germany's bed head hair. Then, he turned off the lamp, walked himself to the other side of the bed and he slipped himself underneath the covers. The nation released a soft yawn and he closed his eyes.

Suddenly, Italy could feel the median of the mattress sinking somewhat as Germany was shifting positions. He shyly smiled underneath the bed sheets, for he knew that his partner was awake and was about to embrace him from behind. Like clockwork, he felt two strong, muscular arms enveloping him and the soft, gentle kisses being expressed onto the back of his neck. Italy giggled from the ticklish sensations of Germany's lips pressing on his skin. He reached over to turn on the lamp sitting on his bedside table. Afterwards, he shifted himself to face Germany and they both passionately kissed each other on the lips.

"Veee~…" Italy awed as he brought his lips away to gasp for breath. Then, he lip locked with Germany's again and they savored the sweet taste of their mouths. Germany firmly grasped Italy's backside and he shifted himself to lie on his back, pulling his partner to straddle on top of him. After a moment of kissing, caressing and wooing, their intimate greeting ceased and they finally spoke to one another.

"Hallo," Germany murmured.

"Ciao, Luddy," Italy responded as he rubbed his palms onto his partner's black undershirt.

"Did you have a good time with your brother?"

"Si, I did! I'm sorry for coming home so late."

"It's quite all right," Germany reassured him as he gently pulled Italy forward, wanting him to lie on top of him. Italy complied and he rested his head onto his chest. Germany brought his own hands behind his head and he smirked to his beloved, who was cherishing the sound of his heartbeat. "Did you guys do anything special?" he asked, only to make small talk. He already knew that Italy would not bother sharing specific details of their day together.

"We did! Every Sunday with my brother is special! Oh, that reminds me, I brought home some sweets for you! They're in the fridge."

"What kind of sweets?"

"Cannoli and Cassata!"

"Mmm…Cassata…so _delicious…_" Germany lustfully murmured, recalling the sweet taste of the Sicilian fruitcake.

Italy cocked his head up and gave Germany a puzzling stare after he listened to his odd comment. "You know what Cassata is? I don't recall ever serving it to you before," he suspiciously said.

Germany's muscles tensed up and he nervously let out a brief chuckle. "Erm, I, uh…I've had it before…downtown…there was a bakery that made Cassata…and I really enjoyed it," he anxiously blurted. Thankfully for him, it was easy to manipulate Italy into believing into anything and the nation gladly accepted his faux explanation.

"If I had known that you liked Cassata, I would have baked it for you all this time! My brother has a wonderful recipe! Perhaps he'll lend it to me one of these days."

"Ja…that would be great. Danke," Germany said, relieved that his partner believed his little white lie. "How was your brother today? Did he get drunk again?"

"Si, he did! But don't worry, he's in good hands," Italy responded and he brought his arms to rest onto Germany's chest. He then rested his chin onto his arms and he looked to his lover. "Speaking of which, how was your outing with Antonio today? Did you guys have fun?"

"Uh, ja, we did," Germany answered as he tried to hide the amusement on his face.

"That's great! What did you guys do?"

"Oh, umm…you know, we just…hung out…and we went for a_ drive_," Germany briefly answered. He could not think of a more clever response than that. Thankfully, it was enough for Italy to accept and the nation grinned to him. "I'm so glad that you two had a great time today!"

"Ja, it was different for us not having to spend our Sundays by ourselves. It was less lonesome."

Italy rested his head against Germany's chest again. He felt a tinge of guilt for knowing about the nation's feelings on being left alone. "I didn't realize that you felt lonesome on Sundays," he said.

Germany reached over and he slowly combed his fingers through Italy's auburn hair. "I-I don't feel this way _every_Sunday. It's just once in a while…I miss having you around," he lied. Deep down, he could not stand being apart from his beloved, even for a second.

"And does Antonio feel the same way in regards to Romano's absence?" Italy asked, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the touch of Germany's fingertips gliding across his scalp.

"Of course he does," Germany responded.

Italy mentally thought to himself what could be done to appease Germany and Spain's feelings. He wanted to make it up to them somehow. He already knew that he could never include them on his Sunday outings with Romano; he'd be furious if this were to happen. Plus, their _family_ may not approve of them, either. His brain thought of different ideas on this situation and decided to share them with his partner. He lifted his head up so he could look at him and he spoke.

"Perhaps we can all hang out together sometime! Maybe once a month, we could get together and do something fun! Hey! We should go _camping!_ Just you, me, Antonio, Roma and the _babies!"_ he happily said, his use of the word "babies" being used to reference the household pets.

Germany cringed, fathoming the thought of going on a camping trip with Romano. Even thinking about camping at all with any of them was enough nightmare fuel to keep him up all night. He adored his partner so much, but imaging Italy in such a scenario just screamed disaster.

Italy noticed the unsatisfied expression on his beloved's face and he sadly pouted. He understood that Germany wanted nothing to do with his brother. He turned his gaze to his arms and he gently uttered a response to him. "On second thought…maybe it wouldn't be a good idea, after all."

"Nein, it wouldn't," Germany suddenly concurred, which caused Italy's feelings to become hurt. At this point, Germany would have dropped the subject. He was the one to usually make the final decisions in the household. But then, he remembered Spain's advice to him about Romano's hidden humanity. His bitter relationship with him was never going to end if he were to continue to stubbornly reject him. He looked to Italy, whose face was slightly flushed with embarrassment and he changed his response to him.

"W-What I meant was…was that it wouldn't be a good idea to go camping…because the campgrounds have to be reserved months in advance. I fear that we've missed the opportunity to camp this summer. But perhaps we can do it next summer."

Italy looked up to Germany in astonishment. He had not expected him to say something like this. "R-Really? Y-You mean it?" he stammered.

"Ja, I do," Germany answered.

"A-And Roma can join us?"

"S-Sure."

Italy ecstatically grinned to him and he tightly glomped his torso. "Oh, grazie, Ludwig! Grazie!" he cried.

"Heh…it's not a problem…" Germany insisted and he smiled at him. Italy scooted up to give a kiss onto his partner's lips. As their lips parted, Germany brought his arms out and he wrapped them around the petite nation. "What you've thought up was a good idea, spending time together as a group once a month. I would enjoy having this tradition in our lives."

"Me too! I hope we can pull it off soon! We're pretty occupied with our jobs with our governments during the week. But surly we can make time for each other in the future." Italy scooted himself to Germany's left side, lying himself on his back. As he continued to vibrantly discuss his aspirations for the future, he held out his arms and he gestured his hands as he spoke.

"I can't wait to go on our camping adventure next year! Ve~, it will be fantastic! I can see it now – singing campfire songs by the fire pit! Snuggling together in a luxurious tent! Going hiking on a trail, and OH! Seeing all the animals that live there! I better bring my sketchbook so I can draw them! Vee~! I wonder what kind of food we'll be eating? Don't expect me to go hunting, though; I don't have the heart to kill an animal for food or sport. Maybe I can make our meals in advance so we can have a picnic-style camp out! That would be amazing!"

Germany silently listened to Italy's dreams of camping with great amusement. It always amazed him to see how he could become joyous from just about anything. The nation wrapped his arm around Italy and he leaned in to kiss his forehead. "Are you sure you can wait until next summer to do these things?"

Italy moved his head to look up to Germany's face and he grinned. "I think so! I have something to look forward to in the future! Oh, it's going to be great, Luddy!"

"For now, you'll just have to _dream_ about it," Germany said and he leaned in to kiss Italy's forehead again. At that moment, his beloved expressed a deep yawn and he slowly nodded his head. "Si…for now…" he murmured, and he shifted himself to reach over to turn his lamp off. Their bedroom suddenly became dark with the exception of some moonlight seeping in through the curtains. Italy nuzzled closely to his partner and he closed his eyes.

Just then, a random thought popped up in Germany's head. He looked to Italy, whom he could barely make out in the dark and he asked him a question. "Hey, can I make a request to you?"

"Mmhmm…anything…"

"Can you make me some cannoli?"

"Hmm?" Italy hummed and he opened his eyes to look at Germany. "But I brought home cannoli for you! It's in the fridge, remember?"

"Ja, I know. But I'd prefer to have _your_ cannoli. Not right away, of course. Maybe…by the end of the week you can make them?"

"Why at the _end_ of the week?"

"Umm…well," Germany hesitantly uttered, "I-I'll be going out with Antonio again next Sunday."

"You are?" Italy happily cried.

"Ja. We really enjoyed our time together today that we're going to do it again. I told him about your cannoli and he'd like to try it. You don't mind, do you?"

Italy suddenly leaned in to kiss Germany's cheek. "Not at all! I'll make a dozen for you guys! I'll head over to the marketplace tomorrow to buy my baking supplies!"

"Danke," Germany said and his embrace tightened around Italy's shoulders. Italy wrapped his left arm around Germany's chiseled chest and he rested his head onto his shoulder. After a couple of yawns escaped from both nations, they slowly began falling into unconsciousness. Before Italy fully went to sleep, he said one last thing to his beloved.

"Ludwig?"

"Hmm," Germany tiredly hummed.

_"Ti amo,"_ he whispered.

A smile curled on Germany's face after hearing those two precious words. _"Ich liebe dich," _he responded. Then, both nations shifted to give one another a final kiss and they drifted into a deep slumber. They would both experience similar dreams that night of being together at a campground with their dogs and cats, roasting weenies at the fire pit and huddling together on a fallen log, sipping on a hot beverage underneath a starlit sky.

.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

**Three Days Later – Wednesday – Bagno a Ripoli, Tuscany**

"TIME TO BREAK FOR LUNCH!" cried a deep, masculine voice from afar at the vineyard property of Zoccolitto Winery. All of the male staff members whom were mostly relatives stopped their duties inside the large barn where they processed their Concord grapes and they headed outside where they would be dining on their break. As they walked up to the long dining table, everyone began savoring the beautiful display of food that was prepared for them by their wives and mothers. They settled themselves down in their seats and they immediately began serving themselves the piping hot lunch and pouring themselves glasses of their own personal wine.

"Hey! Where's Basilio?" asked one of the Zoccolitto men.

"I think he's down in the cellar doing inventory with our barrels. He's testing the wine fermentation," responded one nephew and he stuffed his face with a bread roll.

The middle-aged man heavily sighed and he stood himself up. "I'll go get him. Hey! Leave some grub for me, eh?" he insisted to his relatives and he walked across the property to another barn which they used as their storage facility. Once he entered inside, he looked across each large aisle to catch a glimpse of his nephew. "BASILIO! ARE YOU IN HERE? IT'S TIME TO EAT!" he shouted. He walked down to the very last aisle and he looked across the row of stacked wine barrels. There, he finally caught a glimpse of his nephew at the very end of the row, sitting with his back against the wall and looking down to his smart tablet.

"That boy!" the middle-aged man scoffed and he angrily walked down to Basilio's direction. As the young, blond teenager saw that his uncle was coming his way, he clumsily tried to conceal his smart tablet behind his back as he scurried himself to stand up.

"Uncle! I-I'm just testing the fermentation process to these barrels – "

"Like hell you are! How many times have I told you _not_ to be surfing the Internet during work hours?!"

"Eh, I'm sorry! Please don't be mad! It's not worth getting upset about – "

"Yes, it is! I'm not paying you to go online! I'm paying you to tend my crops and to make wine!"

"Sorry, Uncle," mumbled Basilio and he turned his gaze away from his stern glance.

Mr. Zoccolitto sighed as he stood in front of his son and he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest. "Well, how is the inventory?" he inquired just to see if Basilio had actually done his job.

"Oh! Well, um…let's see," Basilio said as he settled his smartpad onto a barrel and he grabbed a clipboard containing important paperwork. "Uh, there's some _ghost wine_ in four barrels in Aisle 3 – "

"God, not again," Mr. Zoccolitto hissed.

"…All of the barrels from the first aisle up to where we're standing are good. As for the newest batches of wine, they're doing fine. No signs of any mold infestation inside the batch."

Mr. Zoccolitto expressed a small smile to his nephew. He was somewhat impressed that the teenaged boy was being truthful to him in regards to handling his responsibilities. As Basilio handed him the clipboard, he quickly looked over the paperwork and he nodded. "Good job, kid," he said.

"Grazie," answered Basilio as he grabbed his smart tablet.

Mr. Zoccolitto gestured his hand to follow his direction as he proceeded to walk ahead toward the barn's exit. "C'mon, it's time to eat. When our break's over, we'll deal with the ghost wine batches and chop up those barrels, okay?"

The teenager smiled to his uncle and he nodded. "Right!" he interjected and he quickly looked down to his smart tablet again as he walked. His uncle looked back and gawked at how Basilio's eyes were glued to his computer again and he frowned. "Must you _always_ be on that thing?" he jeered.

"I can't help it! I'm hooked!" Basilio insisted and he started to laugh.

"Looking at that screen all day is bad for your eyes."

"Yeah, I know, Uncle. Don't worry about me, all right? I'm perfectly – " Suddenly, Basilio stopped walking and his blue eyes widened as he stared intently at an image showing on his smart tablet screen. _"No way!" _he whispered and his eyebrows formed a frown.

Mr. Zoccolitto stopped walking as he was waiting upon his nephew on finishing his sentence. "You're perfectly what? Basilio?" he asked and he turned around. When he saw how visibly upset Basilio had become, he stepped up to the teenager to see what he was looking at. "What is it? What's wrong?" he asked.

Basilio looked to Mr. Zoccolitto and he flipped the smart tablet around so that his uncle could see what he was staring at. "UNCLE! LOOK! IT'S THE CAR THAT THOSE TWO WEIRDOS DROVE OFF IN! YOU KNOW, THE GUYS THAT WERE SPYING ON OUR DINNER PARTY TWO WEEKS AGO!" he furiously yelled.

Mr. Zoccolitto's brown eyes widened from shock as he was staring at images of Germany's vehicle, the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen. The images had been posted on Tumblr. He immediately noticed _their_ bullets riddling the vehicle's steel exterior. This confirmed that his nephew was correct. He carefully read the inscription to the photographs at the bottom of the page.

_"Saw this strange car parked at an alleyway in Perugia, Umbria, Italy."_

Mr. Zoccolitto handed the smart tablt back to his nephew and he reached into his jean pant pocket to retrieve his cellphone. "I'm calling the police. You go over to the Bianchi estate and show them what you've found," he sternly ordered. Basilio obeyed and he ran out of the storage facility. As he was dashing past his uncles and cousins who were dining on their lunch, many of them shouted to get his attention.

"HEY! WHERE ARE YOU GOING?"

"WHAT'S UP, BASILIO?"

"HEY! WHAT'S WRONG?"

Basilio immediately turned around and he ran back to his family at the dining table. He breathlessly answered them as he held up the smart tablet, showing the images of Germany's car to them. _"T-Those bastards…that spied on us…this is their car! T-They're in P-Perugia!"_

The men and teenaged boys looked to one another and then back to the smart tablet as they observed the images of the beaten up military vehicle one more time. Then, they suddenly stood themselves up from their chairs and they split into three groups: one group ran back to the house to inform the women and children of their sudden finding, the second group joined Basilio on his brief journey to the Bianch family estate and the third group hurried to Mr. Zoccolitto's location inside the storage barn.

* * *

Both the Zoccolitto family and the Bianchi family were crowded together inside the small county jail and they fervently petitioned to the police. Basilio held up his smart tablet and showed the police officer the images of the bullet riddled military vehicle that belonged to the two mysterious strangers. "This is the car that my father, uncles and myself chased away from our property!" he cried.

"And that's the car that drove through my vineyard and destroying my crops!" cried Mr. Bianchi and he tapped his index finger onto the smart tablet's flat screen. Both large families looked to the middle-aged police officer sitting behind his desk for any reaction to their sudden discovery, but he seemed to be rather bored and unimpressed by their finding.

"That vehicle could belong to anybody," he blankly responded.

"BULLSHIT!" screamed Mr. Bianchi and his pallor complexion was turning scarlet from built up rage. "HOW MANY PEOPLE DO YOU SEE DRIVING A CAR LIKE THAT ALL THE TIME?! AND LOOK – LOOK RIGHT HERE! IT HAS BULLETS LODGED INTO ITS EXTERIOR! DON'T TELL ME THAT'S NOTHING SUSPICIOUS!"

"Yeah! And those bullets were shot by _us _with _our_ _guns!_" concurred Basilio with pride.

Both the Zoccolittos and the Bianchis leaned in closely to the police officer awaiting his actions on this difficult situation. The police officer began to rub his fingertips on his moustache as he took in all the information that was verbally and visually exchanged to him. After a moment, he broke his silence. "Put that tablet on my desk," he ordered.

Basilio obeyed and he stepped up to the police officer's desk and he settled the smart tablet onto its surface. The police officer looked to the military vehicle's vintage license plate and he slowly typed in the digits onto his own computer. After a moment, he expressed a low hum and he resumed rubbing his moustache.

Mr. Bianchi's scarlet shaded face became deeper as his patience was running short with the lackluster approach of the police officer's actions. "WELL?!" he angrily shouted.

The police officer looked to Mr. Bianchi and he sighed with annoyance. "There's no need to shout," he insisted.

"I HAVE EVERY REASON TO SHOUT! WHAT DID YOU JUST DO?!" bellowed Mr. Bianchi. Suddenly, his wife and sons begged with him to calm down and they gestured with their hands for him to be quiet.

The police officer looked to his computer screen and his eyes read the information that was presented to him. Then, he turned his gaze to Mr. Bianchi, his family and the Zoccolitto family as he spoke. "I typed in the license plate number onto the European Union's database and according to their files, this vehicle is not registered. Therefore, _it_ _does not exist._"

Mr. Bianchi's body began trembling with rage and he extended his right arm outward, pointing to the direction to his property. "HAVE YOU SEEN MY PROPERTY?! HAVE YOU SEEN THE DAMAGE DONE TO MY VINEYARD?!"

"Well, yes, I have – "

"AND YOU MEAN TO TELL ME THAT THIS AUTOMOBILE THAT THESE GENTLEMEN NEXT TO ME CHASED OFF THEIR PROPERTY AND _OFF A CLIFF _DOESN'T EXIST?!"

"Uh, well it _doesn't _on the EU database – "

"AND YET IT'S BEEN SPOTTED IN PERUGIA! THIS IS AN _OURTAGE!_ I DEMAND _JUSTICE!_ MY LIVELIHOOD IS AT STAKE BECAUSE OF THOSE TWO BASTARDS WHO HAD THE AUDACITY TO DRIVE THROUGH MY CROPS!"

The police officer gestured to Mr. Bianchi to settle down and the farmer's family tried their best to simmer down the patriarch's powerful temper. Members of the Zoccolitto family sympathized with the distraught old man and his financial loss. Mrs. Zoccolitto cradled her young son Pepino in her arms whom was covering his ears with his palms from Mr. Bianchi's shouting. She glared to the police officer and she stepped up to his desk. "Surly there_ must_ be something you can do for us! We can't let these _creeps _get away with what they've done!" she angrily insisted.

The police officer looked to Mrs. Zoccolitto and he sighed. After a moment, he finally spoke to everyone. "I'll contact the police department in Perugia to forward the report to them."

The Bianchis and the Zoccolitto's frowned to the police officer for his unimpressive solution. The police officer sighed again and he glared to them with contempt. "Look! I'm sorry, all right? That's all I can do right now! When I speak with the prescient, I'll ask them if they've received any reports about those two men!"

"Yeah, that's _really _going to help us," Mr. Bianchi scoffed.

The police officer shot a dirty glare to the disgruntled farmer and he grimaced to him. "Keep it up with that bad attitude and I'll just drop your cases all together!" he warned. Mr. Bianchi stubbornly looked away from the police officer and his wife and sons quietly begged him to behave himself. At this moment, a quick thought shot through the mind of the police officer and his expression somewhat softened. He looked to everyone standing in front of him and he spoke.

"Say, did any of you get a good look at their faces? Perhaps one of my officers could draw a composite sketch. I could forward it to the Perugian police department and to other neighboring prescient's to help in the search for these wanted men."

Both families mumbled to one another, asking whether or not they had gotten a good glimpse of the mysterious strangers' faces. Then, one of the Zoccolitto men raised his hand and he spoke. "My daughter is really the only one who saw them close up. She's the one who discovered them hiding on our property."

"Is she around?" asked the police officer.

"Why, yes she is. She's back home with her mother."

"Have her come in today. We'll need to interview her in order to have the composite sketch created. Is she a minor?"

"She is, she just turned fifteen – but you have my consent to talk to her! It isn't a problem!"

The police officer picked up and held out the smart tablet for Basilio to take back. He then reached over and lifted the receiver to his desk telephone. As he cradled the receiver against his shoulder while he dialed an extension, he spoke a final statement to the two families. "I'm going to need you to sign some consent forms in order for my men to get a statement from your daughter. If she decides to participate, your cases could have a better chance of being solved. Don't you worry yourselves – we _will_ find these _criminals!"_

* * *

**Three Days Later – Saturday**

"Shit! He just _had _to call me now!" Romano hissed and he stopped whisking the cake dough and set the glass bowl aside. He pulled out his smartphone from his pocket to his black apron and he answered his brother's call. "Ciao!" he said.

_"Ciao, fratello! How are you doing today?" _Italy happily responded through the receiver.

"I'm fine. Hey, lets talk on FaceTime, okay? I need to have my hands free."

_"Sure! No problem, hold on!"_

The Italy Brothers pressed a button on their smartphone screens to activate FaceTime and they carefully settled and positioned their phones so that they could see one another. "Chigi…stay balanced…" Romano mumbled to his phone as he tilted it against a stack of cookbooks. He could see Italy on the screen trying to position his own phone. Once they were both successful at performing this task, they looked to one another and smiled. Italy enthusiastically waved to his brother and then he picked up a hollow metal mold.

"How's your day so far, Roma?" he asked as he carefully wrapped pastry dough around the metal mold. Once it was wrapped, he set it down and picked up another metal mold and repeated the process.

"Eh, it's all right. I have errands to run this afternoon," Romano answered as he continued whisking the cake dough in the large glass bowl.

"I can't wait to see you tomorrow! I always look forward to our Sundays together!" Italy lovingly exclaimed as he set the second wrapped mold down.

"So do I," Romano concurred as his whisking vigorously quickened. "How's your day going, Veneziano?"

"Oh, it's great! I'm just busying myself in the kitchen right now!"

"Hmm," Romano hummed as he listened to his brother's response. Then, the speed to his whisking suddenly decreased and he looked to Italy's image on his smartphone screen. He had just come to the realization that his brother was also in the kitchen performing a task. "Hey, what are you doing?" he asked.

Italy looked up to his phone and he smiled. "I'm making _cannoli!" _he answered and he focused his attention back to making the cannoli dough shells.

Romano's whisking came to an abrupt halt and he arched an eyebrow to his brother. "Heh, what a coincidence. I'm baking, too," he uttered.

"You are?! What are you making?!" Italy excitedly asked.

"_Cassata,_" Romano answered and he began whisking again. As he looked to his brother's image on his smartphone, he suddenly frowned when he noticed Germany stepping behind Italy and suspiciously eyeing a large glass bowl filled with crème. Romano gritted his teeth as he watched Germany quickly dip his fingers into the crème and sneaking a taste of it into his mouth.

"Chigi!" Romano said in a disgusted tone and he roughly shoved the whisk against the glass bowl and folded his arms.

"What's the matter?" Italy asked as he finished molding the final cannoli shell. He was completely oblivious that Germany was standing behind him and tasting his ingredients.

"That Potato Bastard of yours is dipping his _filthy _fingers into your cannoli crème!" Romano angrily cried.

"WHAT?!" Italy gasped and he immediately turned around and caught Germany in the act. "NO! NO! DON'T DO THAT! STOP IT, LUDDY!" he pathetically wailed and he tugged on Germany's arm in an attempt to pull the nation away from the counter.

"Calm down! I just wanted a taste!" Germany scoffed.

"I don't like it when you're in the kitchen! You _always_ do this!"

"Are you almost done? I'm getting hungry – "

"_I just fed you an hour ago!"_

"Well, I'm hungry again –"

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE KITCHEN, POTATO BASTARD!" Romano demanded through Italy's smartphone. Germany looked over to it and he sternly glared to Romano's image on the flat screen.

"PISS OFF! THIS IS BETWEEN US!" Germany shouted and he pointed his index finger to Romano.

"HOW DARE YOU DUNK YOUR _DISGUSTING _FINGERS INTO MY FRATELLO'S INGREDIENTS! GOD KNOWS WHERE THOSE DIGITS HAVE BEEN! YOU DIRTY MOTHERFUCKER!"

"OH, STOP IT, YOU ASS! MY HANDS ARE CLEAN! YOU'RE BEING OVERLY DRAMATIC!"

Italy watched the fight between his partner and his brother escalate and he decided that something had to be done to stop their quarreling. So, he suddenly called out to the family dogs that were in the other room. "ASTER! BERLITZ! BLACKIE! VIENI QUI! (COME HERE!)" Immediately, the three dogs dashed into the kitchen and they excitedly stood near their Papi, awaiting his orders.

Italy pointed toward Germany and he looked to the dogs. "Come Papa fuori di qui e di guardia all'ingresso della cucina! (Get Papa out of here and guard the kitchen entrance!)" he insisted. The dogs understood their Papi's command and like bouncers to a nightclub, they began to push themselves against Germany toward the kitchen door. Berlitz the Doberman Pincher gripped his teeth onto Germany's grey shirt and he roughly led him away from the counter.

"What did you say to them, Feli - HEY! S-STOP IT! C'MON! VERDAMNIT!" Germany angrily protested as his dogs were forcing him out of the kitchen. Romano watched everything unfold and he started cheering and clapping for the dogs. Italy shot a glare to his brother and he motioned with his hand for him to quiet down. But instead, Romano's clapping became more vigorous and he obnoxiously whistled.

Once Germany was pushed out of the kitchen, Italy knew that he had to give the dogs a treat. He walked over to the refrigerator, opened it and he quickly pulled out some sausage links. "Grazie, i bambini! (Thank you, babies!) he happily exclaimed and he threw the chilled meat to the dogs. Aster, Berlitz and Blackie caught their sausage links into their mouths and they excitedly wagged their tails while they consumed their treat.

Romano's clapping stopped and he smirked to his brother. "That was awesome!" he remarked.

"Eh, it had to be done! I don't like to have drama in my kitchen," Italy said and he closed the refrigerator.

"I _really _love those dogs. They're so great," Romano said and his smirk turned into a radiant smile.

Suddenly, Germany's voice bellowed through the kitchen door; He had overheard Romano's praise about _his _dogs._"WAIT A MINUTE! LET ME GET THIS STRAIGHT – YOU HATE ME, BUT YOU LOVE MY DOGS?! YOU DO REALIZE THAT THEY'RE __GERMAN PUREBREDS__ RIGHT?!"_

Romano's face suddenly became blank after overhearing Germany's blunt remark, but then he quickly retorted and he angrily shouted to his smartphone. "PFFT! THEY CAN'T _HELP_ THAT! I'LL NEVER HOLD THAT AGAINST THEM!" he ignorantly stated.

_"OH, MEIN GOTT! YOU JERKOFF!" _Germany furiously groaned through the door. As the nation was about to re-enter the kitchen, Aster, Berlitz and Blackie stood their ground at the door and they loudly yipped and barked for him to stay back. Germany grumbled under his breath and he stubbornly walked away from the kitchen door.

Romano victoriously laughed as he overheard the dogs' successful attempt to keep Germany out of the kitchen. His laughter, however, subsided when Italy shot a glare to him. "I wish you wouldn't provoke him like that," he said.

"Why not? I enjoy it. I love making him _miserable_," Romano uttered and he resumed his task of whisking the cake batter.

"Shame on you, Roma! You shouldn't say such things!" Italy jeered as he turned on the gas stove. He settled a pan onto the heat and he poured heavy oil into it. Momentarily, he would begin frying the cannoli shells. "Ludwig is such a sweet man. It hurts my heart when you mistreat him – "

"Oh! And having him yell at me isn't _mistreatment_? I see how it is! As always, I'm _second best_ in your fucking eyes when compared to that creep!" Romano bitterly commented as he was pouring his batter into a cake pan. Then, he slammed the empty glass bowl onto the kitchen counter and he glared to his smartphone.

"Romano! Not _this _again!" Italy groaned as he carefully placed the rolled cannoli dough into the pan. Suddenly, the boiling hot oil sizzled and bubbled as it began to fry the dough. "You're my brother! I'll always have more love for you, honey!" Italy lovingly uttered as he focused on turning the cannoli shells over. He looked up to his smartphone to see Romano's reaction, only to notice that he was not standing in front of his own phone.

"Roma?"

_"Hold on!" _Romano cried from the other end of the kitchen. Italy could hear the distinctive noises of the oven door being opened and the cake pan being placed inside. Once Romano brought the oven door to a close, he stepped back to the kitchen counter and became visible for Italy to look at again.

"Roma, did you hear what I said?" Italy softly inquired.

Romano rolled his dark eyes and he looked to his brother with an attitude. "Yeah, so what?" he asked.

"I-I'll always love you more, _fratello_," Italy repeated and he warmly smiled.

"You better!" Romano bitterly insisted. Italy's smile increased and he let out a soft chuckle. He briefly looked away from his smartphone and he focused on his frying. When he eventually did look back up, he saw his brother staring at him. His expression had softened and his lips were forming a small smile.

_"Ti voglio bene (I love you)" _he tenderly said and he blew a kiss to Itay.

Italy returned the gesture of blowing a kiss back to Romano and he grinned. _"Ti voglio bene!" _he proudly exclaimed. Then, he quickly transferred the first finished batch of fried cannoli shells onto a plate. Afterwards, he began preparing a portion of pastry dough to be rolled into more cannoli shells. "I'm sorry that Ludwig lost his temper with you…yet again. Try not to feel too angry over it, okay? He's just cranky right now because he's hungry again."

"Why can't he get himself a snack then? Why did he whine to you for more food? He behaves like a _spoiled brat!_" Romano hissed while he began preparing frosting for his cake. He did not realize how ironic his words were to Italy; He was also guilty for whining to Spain to prepare meals for him ever since he was his underling.

"Eh-heh! I guess I fuss over him too much when I serve him. He really enjoys my cooking, you know! Sometimes, he can't control himself! I just hope that he'll have the willpower to not gobble up all this cannoli overnight. I've been making these especially for tomorrow when _Antonio _comes to visit!"

"Mmm-hmm," Romano mindlessly hummed as he focused on scooping sugar into a measuring cup. But then, he suddenly over poured the sugar when he realized what his brother had just said. "W-What did you say?" he asked as he looked to Italy in confusion.

Italy softly giggled when he watched Romano's startled reaction. "Oh, didn't you know? They're going to hang out tomorrow! I'm making cannoli for them to share! It was Ludwig's special request!"

Romano stared to his brother's image on his smartphone, completely puzzled by what he had just been told and he slowly settled the metal scooper onto the kitchen counter. "You know, Antonio requested me to make him Cassata. You mean to tell me that I've been _slaving away_ in the kitchen creating this complicated cake and he's going to share it tomorrow with that Potato Bastard?!"

Italy flinched as Romano's baritone voice rose as he spoke with great agitation. "Uh, I don't know anything about that! Maybe you should ask him – "

"TONI! TONI, GET THE _FUCK_ IN HERE! PRONTO!" Romano furiously shouted and he violently tossed the overfilled measuring cup against the glass bowl, causing the sugar to shoot upward and raining upon the kitchen counter. Italy nervously flinched and he turned his gaze away from his smartphone while he hurriedly prepared the rest of the doughy cannoli shells. As he placed them into the fry oil, he timidly looked back to his smartphone to see Spain in the background peeking behind the kitchen door, grinning with devotion.

"What iiiiissss it, Toommaaattteee?" Spain asked in a sing-song tone.

Romano began tapping his foot and he dramatically gestured his hands as he spoke to Spain. "You're going out tomorrow?!" he cried.

"Si – "

"And you're going to visit that fucking Kraut?!"

"Si – "

"So the Cassata is for you guys to eat and _not for us?!"_

Spain's face suddenly became very ecstatic and he could not contain his joy any longer. "¡Si!" He happily admitted and he bit down on his bottom lip and grinned.

"CHIGI! YOU SNEAKY BASTARD! WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME?!" Romano roared in absolute rage. Spain began giggling as he stepped inside the kitchen and he walked up to his beloved. "If I had said something, then you wouldn't have made the cake!" he said and he leaned in to kiss Romano's face, only to be roughly shoved away.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Romano screamed and he folded his arms.

Spain looked to his partner with sympathy and he tried to embrace him, only to be pushed back once again. "Aww, Lovi! Please don't be like this!" he said.

"You tricked me, Toni! You've played me for a fool to make Cassata for that asshole friend of yours! Why the hell does he even _want_ to eat my cake?!"

"I-I uh, I just told him about your recipe and he wanted to try it – "

"WHY?!" Romano screamed again and he ominously glared to Spain's direction.

"Eh-heh…why not? It's delicious! You should feel flattered!" Spain stated and he sheepishly smiled to him.

"Damn you! I have errands to complete today and my entire afternoon has been inside this kitchen making an extravagant cake that wasn't even meant for me to eat!" Romano then turned his back to Spain, giving him the cold shoulder.

"Calm down, Tomate," Spain said soothingly as he crept up behind Romano and tenderly hugged him from behind. Romano immediately tried wiggling away from his embrace, but his partner made sure not to let him get away. Spain gave Romano tiny pecks on the back of his neck, which caused the uptight nation to slowly calm down. Romano had temporarily forgotten that he was on FaceTime with Italy on his smartphone and became oblivious that his twin brother was watching him.

"C-Chigi, Toni," Romano murmured and he looked back to see his beloved smiling at him.

"Ay, baby…my lovely Lovi…" Spain lovingly uttered and he kissed Romano's cheek. Romano's face flushed from this and a tiny smile curled on his face. "Please don't be mad with me, sweetie…"

"But I have so many things to do today!" Romano insisted. He wrapped his arms around Spain's neck and he stubbornly pouted to him. "I have to fill my car with petrol – "

"I can do that for you!" Spain gleefully exclaimed.

"…I have to go to the dry cleaners to pick up my suit – "

"I can do that for you, too!"

"…I have to go to Confession – "

"I _forgive_ you! Eh-heh!"

"Chigi! Will you stop trying to get on my good side?! Doing those errands for me – uggh! – won't get you – mppph! – on my good side!" Romano struggled to speak as he tried to push himself away from Spain's embrace again, but Spain's hold on him became tighter and he pressed his partner closely to himself.

"Aww! But I want to help you out! It's the least I could do! Besides, I have _other ways _of getting on your _good side,_" Spain doted and he began to kiss Romano on the lips. Romano tried to avoid his partner's puckered lips, but Spain's adamant attempts to kissing him slowly brought the nation to succumb to his loving actions. Romano started accepting Spain's love and their kissing turned amorous. Romano gripped his hands onto Spain's shirt collar and he roughly pulled him against himself and his beloved was mounting him against the side of the kitchen counter.

_"Mmm, Toni," _Romano breathlessly cooed and he continued to kiss him.

Meanwhile, Italy was watching his brother making out from his smartphone feed and he lovingly admired Romano and Spain's love for one another. _"Veee…"_ he softly uttered as he rested his chin on his right palm while his left hand held onto metal kitchen tongs.

Spain opened his eyes after he overheard a familiar voice in the kitchen and he suddenly noticed Italy watching them from his partner's smartphone. He parted his lips from Romano's and he happily greeted to the nation's live image. "Hey, Veneziano!" Romano nervously flinched when he remembered that they were not alone and he reached over and placed his phone screen first onto the surface of the kitchen counter.

_"Hey, Antonio! – Aww…" _Italy's voice whined through the speaker.

"No peeking!" Romano teased to his brother and he resumed kissing Spain's mouth again. Italy contently listened to the two lovebirds' kissing and chuckling through the receiver and his fair complexion blushed. He giggled to himself as he focused on frying the rest of his cannoli shells.

Meanwhile, Spain lifted Romano up and he sat him onto the kitchen counter. Romano cunningly wrapped his legs around his beloved's backside and he interlocked him in his embrace. Then, they continued to kiss one another with great sincerity. _"Mmm…so am I now on your good side?" _Spain lovingly whispered in Romano's ear, causing his olive skin to become goosepimply.

_"Perhaps," _Romano responded as he nuzzled his cheek against his partner's.

_"Would I be on your good side…if I did this?" _Spain seductively teased and he began to lick and suckle on Romano's earlobe.

"C-CHIGI!" Romano cried out and he began squealing from Spain's invasive suckling. "S-Stop that! Y-You're tickling me!" he gasped.

Spain stopped torturing his beloved and he smiled to him. _"How about…I do this?" _he suggested and he started to slowly kiss down the side of Romano's neck.

"Mmmph!" Romano moaned and he closed his eyes, relishing the gentle pecks of Spain's soft lips pressing against his neck.

Spain caressed his sharp nose against Romano's neck and he gave him a couple of more pecks. _"Would I be on your good side…if I were to touch __this?__"_ he asked and he reached up to touch his beloved's curl.

Immediately, Romano's eyes shot open and he quickly gripped on Spain's extending hand. "Oh, no you don't!" he cried and he looked to his partner amusingly, "You'll have to wait to do _that _tonight! I'm too busy in here right now! In case you've forgotten, I'm baking you Cassata!"

"Si, the best Cassata in the entire world!" Spain exclaimed and he kissed Romano's cheek. Romano let out a giggle and he kissed the tip of Spain's nose. Then, they both wrapped their arms around one another and they nuzzled close.

"Lovi?"

"Hmm?"

"Would it be all right if I asked another favor from you?" Spain asked. Then, he leaned in to begin kissing Romano's lips again. Romano found himself not being able to resist Spain's sultry kisses and he easily caved in to his partner's request.

_"Mm-hmm…*kiss*…a-anything…*kiss*" _he murmured.

_"Could you bake me…*kiss*… those wonderful cookies…*kiss*…of yours?"_

_"Which ones?...*kiss*…"_

_"You know…*kiss*…the Sicilian cookies…*kiss*…the ones with the fig filling…*kiss*…and raisins…*kiss*…and the rainbow sprinkles…*kiss*…and orange glaze…"_

_"Ah, you want me…*kiss*…to make Cuccidati?...*kiss*…"_

_"Si…oh, si…*kiss*…very much so…"_

_"Fine…*kiss*…I'll bake them later…"_

_"Gracias…*kiss*…make sure to make many loaves...*kiss*…"_

_"Why so many?...*kiss*…"_

_"So that…*kiss*…I could…*kiss*…share them with Germany tomorrow…*kiss*…"_

"WHAT?! OH, FUCK NO!" Romano furiously shrieked and he pushed Spain away from himself. "I'M NOT FALLING FOR YOUR BULLSHIT AGAIN! YOU TRICKED ME IN MAKING CASSATA TO SHARE WITH THAT POTATO BASTARD! YOU CAN'T FOOL ME, NOR CAN YOU CAN YOU CONVINCE ME TO BAKE CUCCIDATI FOR YOU, YOU SNEAKY SON OF A – _Mmmm!_" Suddenly, Romano's shouting was silenced by a deep, passionate kiss. Spain seductively suckled on his partner's tongue into his mouth, which caused Romano's dark eyes to roll to the back of his head. After a moment, Spain's kissing stopped and their lips parted.

Romano stared to his beloved completely dazed and infatuated. His Erogenous curl formed the shape of a heart and his blushing cheeks intensified in color. He goofily smiled to Spain and he tenderly spoke to him. "I-I'll get started…after the Cassata is finished," he said.

"¡Muy Bein! I'll get going now to finish those errands for you! Should I go to the farmer's market to get ingredients for the cookies?" Spain excitedly asked.

"S-Si…I-I'll need figs…and raisins…and oranges…and more cin-cinminam-cinnmia – "

"Cinnamon?" Spain sweetly asked, finishing his beloved's sentence for him. Romano simply nodded and his smile increased. Spain gave Romano one last kiss on his lips and he stepped away from him. "Okay, Tomate! I'll be back in a bit! Love yooouuu!" he happily said and he walked out of the kitchen.

Romano remained sitting on the kitchen counter, staring into space. He was still under his beloved's spell from the wonderful kissing that was bestowed upon him. His trance, however, was broken when he overheard a familiar voice coming forth from his smartphone.

_"Veee!"_

Romano suddenly snapped out of his mood. He had forgotten that he was talking with his brother. Italy's voice made him come to the realization that he had been played _yet again _by Spain's motives to get him to bake more sweets. "CHIGI!" he shouted and he kicked his right heel against the cupboard door beneath him. He quickly looked behind him to retrieve his smartphone and he decided to heed his warnings to Italy.

"Veneziano! Be on high alert! My Tomato Bastard and your Potato Bastard are trying to take advantage of us! Whatever happens, don't be a slave in the kitchen like I am today! Ignore any requests given to you – THE FUCK?!" Romano angrily shouted when he held up his smartphone and saw what his twin brother was doing. Germany was back in the kitchen and both nations were affectionately kissing one another. While they were doing this, Italy effortlessly held up a small glass bowl containing egg yolks and he poured them into an automatic ice cream maker that was sitting on the counter.

"YOU BASTARD! YOU'VE SEDUCED HIM INTO MAKING GELATO!" Romano roared.

Italy broke away from Germany's kiss to look at his brother's image on his smartphone. "Erm – Roma! Eh, I gotta go now! I-I'll see you tomorrow! Ti voglio bene! Ciao!" Italy nervously stammered and he reached over and abruptly hung up their conversation. Then, he focused his attention back to his partner and he lovingly doted him by kissing his lips again.

_"Is there anything else…*kiss*…that you'd like for me to make?...*kiss*…" _Italy asked in a smooth tone.

_"Give me a moment…*kiss*…to think about this…*kiss*…you know how ravenous I become...*kiss*…after we've made love…*kiss*…" _Germany seductively answered and he pressed his bulge against Italy's.

_"B-But Luddy! We can't make love right now!...*kiss*…I-I have to finish making cannoli – "_

_"It can wait…*kiss*…"_

_"A-And the gelato…*kiss*…it's still mixing…*kiss*…w-we can't go upstairs now…*kiss*…I-I have to keep an eye on it – "_

_"Who said that we were going __upstairs?__"_

Suddenly, Italy's pale face turned scarlet and he started giggling uncontrollably. Germany's usual stern expression showed great amusement and his cheeks as well were blushing deeply as Italy's own. They both looked across the kitchen to see if Aster, Berlitz and Blackie were still in the kitchen. Thankfully for them, the dogs had bailed from their presence. Italy and Germany looked back to one another and they grinned. Then, Italy reached down and he started to unbuckle Germany's belt. At this very moment, the nation felt a cool dab of cannoli crème dabbed on the tip of his nose.

"Hey!" Italy exclaimed and he reached up to wipe his nose clean. He looked to his beloved who was now holding the glass bowl of cannoli crème in his hands.

"Perhaps_ this_ could become useful to us," Germany alluringly suggested.

Italy's blushing increased and he nodded in agreement. "It sure will…and if we run out, I can always make _more_," he said. Then, he dunked his hand into the thick crème, cupping an abundance of it and he slowly knelt down on his knees.

* * *

**The Next Day – Sunday – August 4****th**

The Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen sped across the Italian border and it zigzagged around many of the slower drivers in order to get ahead of pursuing the Italy Brother's next destination. Spain was in control of Germany's iPhone again and he kept track through Siri of where their partners' current whereabouts. The nation was also dominating the military vehicle's sound system again and he was blasting the only genre of music that both he and Germany seemed to equally enjoy: Tejano music. Spain was playing songs performed by the great Mexican musician Ramón Ayala and he noticed how his friend was enjoying the German polka inspired sound to the Latin music.

"Hey! I'm getting hungry! Lets break out the snacks, shall we?" Spain gleefully asked and he shifted in his seat so he could reach for the cooler sitting behind his chair.

"Erm, I don't know, Ant. I really don't approve of _eating inside_ Gretchen," Germany responded.

Spain suddenly cracked up laughing and he nudged Germany with his right elbow. "I think Gretchen wouldn't mind if _I ate inside her!_ WOOO!" he mightily declared and his laughter intensified.

"OH, GOTT! SHUT UP!" Germany angrily shouted and he began cringing from his friend's crude humor. "YOU KNOW QUITE WELL WHAT I MEANT! QUIT _SEXUALIZING _MY VEHICLE! IT'S CREEPY!"

"Calm down, man! I'm only kidding! Sheesh!" Spain insisted and he grinned to him. Then, he reached behind his seat and he lifted the cooler up, then settled it in-between their seats. He pushed the lid up and he excitedly brought out two individually wrapped plates containing slices of Cassata.

Germany briefly took his eyes away from the road only to glare to Spain for disobeying his wishes. "What did I just tell you?! Please don't eat food inside _my car!_ I don't want crumbs everywhere nor do I want my interior stained with food! Put everything away! Now!"

Spain frowned to the bossy nation and he stubbornly jeered to him. "No! I don't want to! I'm starving! Plus, aren't you dying to try my lovely Lovi's Cassata? He spent the entire day making this cake just for _you!_"

Germany arched an eyebrow to the nation. He knew that Romano would _never _do anything courteous for him in a million years. Spain flushed from embarrassment as he saw how Germany was staring at him. He realized that he had been caught flubbing to him. Spain nervously laughed and smiled to the unimpressed nation. "Eh-heh! Uh, okay, so he didn't _exactly _make this cake _especially_ for you…but the point is that he still made it despite knowing that I was going to share it with you today. So give him credit, will you? Lovi was a good sport! He didn't have to do this!"

Germany suspiciously glared to the two tin-foiled plates of Cassata that were resting on Spain's lap. "H-How do I know that it's not…_poisoned?" _he nervously asked.

"Poisoned? _POISONED?! ¡DIOS MIO! _I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'VE JUST SAID THAT! I'M AT A LOSS!" Spain furiously screamed and he violently slammed the cooler lid shut. Germany became startled by the nation's exploding temper and he turned his gaze away from him.

"It's a _rational _question! The bastard _hates _me! If there was any way for him to _take me out, _it would be this way!" Germany sternly replied, refusing to apologize for his paranoid behavior.

"First of all, the cake is _not poisoned _because – derpy derp! – I'm going to be eating it, too! Second, if my Lovi wanted to _kill you, _he'd use his _hands! _Or one of his many _rifles! _Or he'd probably have some _Mafioso_ play target shooting with you, or something – "

"Oh, swell! That _really _makes me feel at ease!" Germany scoffed in disgust.

Spain held up one of the tin-foiled plates and he gestured it in a dancing motion. "C'mon, Señor! You know you want some of this! Yummers!" he exclaimed and he suddenly ripped off the tin foil covering, revealing the three tier nutty fruit cake adorned with marzipan, plump cherries and apricot slices on top of a thick, green colored buttercream frosting.

Germany timidly looked to the savory piece of cake and his mouth began salivating over it. "I-It's beautiful!" he cried with tears welling in his eyes.

"And it's delicious, too!" Spain concurred and he placed a plastic fork on the plate.

Germany eyed the Cassata for a moment as he mentally debated with himself whether or not the cake was indeed safe to eat. He was very untrustworthy of Romano. Meanwhile, Spain was becoming impatient with his friend. He decided that if Germany were too afraid to eat the cake, then he'd have it all for himself. He brought his extended arm back to his side and he settled the plate onto his lap.

"Fine then, it's your loss!" Spain said and he picked up the fork. As he was about to stab the fork into the moist piece of cake, Germany gestured his left hand for him to stop.

"Nein! Nein! Don't eat _my slice! _Hand it over!" he demanded.

Spain bit his bottom lip and he grinned. He carefully placed the plate of cake onto the dashboard. "Enjoy!" he said.

Germany hurriedly grabbed his fork and he stabbed it into the Cassata. He brought the succulent morsel to his lips and he hungrily consumed it. Suddenly, his palate was bombarded with the overwhelming flavors of the Sicilian dessert and the nation started moaning deeply in pleasure. "Scheiße! Mmmm! Oh Gott! Ohh!"

Spain giggled profusely and he started to consume his own slice of cake. "Mmm! I knew you'd like it!" he happily said as he watched Germany chow down on his serving.

"Mmm! This is better than the Cassata we ate last weekend!" Germany proclaimed and he pressed his fingers onto his plate and dabbed up the cake crumbs to eat.

"There's a lot more where that came from!" Spain said and he opened the cooler again. He held up the other plates of Cassata to show Germany and the nation was thrilled over this. Then, Spain put the plates back inside the cooler and he rummaged through the other goodies they had brought with them for their trip. Spain chuckled when he saw the glass bottles of beer. Next to the beer were six individual glass bowls wrapped in cellophane. "Hey! What are these?" he asked and he held up a bowl for Germany to see.

Germany smiled at the sight of the bowl and swallowed the remainder of his cake. "Oh! It's gelato! Feli made it from scratch!" he proudly said.

"NO WAY!" Spain shouted and he ripped off the cellophane. His emerald colored eyes sparkled as he looked down to the dark chocolate and raspberry flavored ice cream. He reached inside the cooler for a plastic utensil and he eagerly consumed his serving. "¡Dios Mio! This is so delicious!" he gasped.

"If you think that's great, wait until you try the cannoli. It's wonderful!" Germany said and his cheeks suddenly blushed as he recalled how the first batch of cannoli crème was used up when he fooled around with Italy in the kitchen. He started to smile and chuckle to himself and his blushing increased.

Spain gobbled up the rest of his gelato and he placed the empty dish back inside the cooler. He looked up and noticed how Germany was behaving and he closed the cooler shut. "Hey! What's got you laughing?" he asked.

"Oh, uh…erm, it's nothing! Nothing at all!" Germany adamantly said and he fought with himself to stop smiling. Then, he looked ahead and he noticed that a division in the road was coming up. "Uh, which way do I turn? Left or right?" he asked.

Spain picked up Germany's iPhone and he looked to the GPS. It took him a while to figure out which way they needed to go and Germany's impatiently asked him again on what to do. "Well?! Which way?! Should I go left?"

"Right," Spain answered and Germany turned on his signal and he headed down the right lane that led off the freeway and onto a seldom-busy road. Spain saw what his friend had done and he panicked. "No! What are you doing?! You were supposed to turn _left!_"

"WHAT?! THEN WHY DID YOU TELL ME TO TURN RIGHT?!" Germany screamed and he glared to Spain.

"I _didn't!"_ Spain stubbornly insisted.

"YOU DID SO! I ASKED IF I SHOULD TURN LEFT AND YOU SAID, 'RIGHT' – "

"¡Si! As in, 'Turn left _right here!_'"

"OH, FUCK YOU! THAT DOESN'T MAKE ANY SENSE!" Germany roared and he pounded his fists onto the steering wheel.

"I'm sorry! I thought that you understood what I meant!" Spain cried and he nervously looked to the furious nation.

"GREAT! JUST GREAT! NOW I HAVE TO MAKE A U-TURN! WHO KNOWS WHEN I'LL BE ALLOWED TO DO THIS – " Suddenly, Germany became silent when he spotted an upcoming road sign. There was only one word printed on it, the name of the small province that was coming up soon. As Germany sped past the road sign, he read the name of the province and his heart sank: _Salò._

_'I can't believe this…I can't believe I'm driving to this place,' _Germany thought and his stomach turned. He thought back on World War II and the anguish that this particular town brought upon himself and Italy. The bitter and painful memories of their division and the division of Italy and Romano came flooding back into the nation's mind. It was this small, insignificant town that changed their lives and his relationship with Romano forever.

Spain noticed that coming ahead of them was a turning lane where Germany could do a legal U-Turn. "There we go! Now you can do your thing," he said as he pointed to the lane. But Germany ignored what was said to him and he proceeded to drive forward. Spain looked back to the turning lane and then to his friend in disbelief. "What the hell?! You could have made a U-Turn there!" he cried.

"Never mind, Ant. I-I have to continue going down this road. There's something I need to check out," Germany said as he focused on the road.

"B-But why? Where are we going?"

"We're going to Salò."

"Salò? But this isn't the direction that _our lovelies_ are heading! We're going the wrong way!"

"I'm aware of that! We can catch up with Italy and Romano in a bit. Please try to understand…I need to visit this town. I _have _to visit this town."

"Why? What is so significant about Salò?"

Germany made a right turn and they drove down the road, which would lead them to their unplanned destination. "I'll explain everything to you when we get there," he said. No words would be exchanged between the two men until they reached their final destination – Lake Garda.

* * *

**Author's Note: **The rating for Alla Famiglia! will be going up to M starting with Chapter 15 due to themes of WWII, adult situations such as violence, the Mafia and _possible _lemon. I hope that nobody minds this. Thank You.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter 15**

**Author's Note: **This is by far one of the most complicated chapters I've written. It's also the longest chapter (so far). This chapter is heavily influenced by actual events that occurred in WWII. I took the time to do extensive research on this topic matter. I've tried my best blending the factual world into the Hetalian Universe for this story.

There are going to be a few Author's Notes scattered throughout this chapter to explain certain historical details. Anything with an asterisk (*) will be explained with an Author's Note. There are also a couple of flashbacks in this chapter, too. I've tried my best to write everything without it coming across as being too confusing. So hopefully I've pulled this off.

**Review Replies**

**To Ballata:** I'm glad that you're enjoying my story. I admit that the story is really peculiar, so I'm always taken aback when readers check it out and actually get into it. As for Spain's reaction to Germany's rude and paranoid comment, I suppose that he should have reacted harsher to him. Then again, I felt that I'd end up rehashing another lecture for Spain to say to Germany and I didn't want to do that. As for him saying "derp"…yeah, that was random. I watch The Nostalgia Critic a lot and he tends to say "derp" or "derpy-derp" in some of his reviews. I suppose my use of this phrase came subconsciously from him.

Funny you should ask about Spain and Romano's private wedding. I will be getting into full details about this topic matter in both chapters 17 and 18. As for whether or not everybody else realizes that they're married, that will be explained in chapter 17 and in future chapters. I don't want to give too many spoilers away, but lets just say that it reluctantly comes out during a _very terrible_ situation. Thank you for your review!

**To Fancy:** Thank you for thinking that my story is great! Also, thank you so much for correcting my misuse of the Italian language. I'm not Italian and my friends of Italian descent don't know how to speak it. I've depended solely on the Internet, particularly Google Translate for many of the bilingual dialogue for my story. Google Translate is pretty useless, but sadly, it's all I have going for me at the moment.

As for themes of Itacest between Italy and Romano, I originally never intended to push that imagery for my story. But after writing this particular chapter, I suppose its up to the reader's interpretation of whether or not there is Itacest in moments of their brotherly love for one another. I'm not into Itacest, but if readers want to think of these moments as Itacest, it's completely fine by me. Thank you for your review!

Get ready for the angst. Onward to Chapter 15…

* * *

The Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen drove down a lonely, isolated road, which separated away from the main street. It was the only vehicle present on the desolate road. Germany focused intently on his driving, dreadfully awaiting to arrive at their unscheduled destination. He knew that he did not have to visit this ominous location at all; he could just make a U-Turn and return to pursuing the Italy Brothers again. But something was drawing Germany back to this place. He had to see it again, or at least what was left of it.

Meanwhile, Spain was chowing down on a handful of Romano's Cuccidati cookies. His eyes were staring down to Germany's iPhone, watching the Italy Brothers' tracked location. He noticed that they were driving near a hospital and then, abruptly, their tracking was stopped. Spain decided to reboot the iPhone, thinking that Siri had experienced a glitch. When he returned to the program, however, he was unable to track the Italy Brothers' current location.

_'Feli must have turned off his phone. I wonder why? Are they visiting somebody in the hospital?' _Spain thought. He wanted to inform Germany about this unusual turn of event, but he could see how withdrawn he had become since they arrived to the Northern Italian village of Salò. Spain decided to remain quiet and he continued to eat his cookies.

Fifteen minutes later, they would finally arrive to their destination. Germany parked his vehicle in front of an abandoned, two-story Italian villa and he turned the engine off. The house was rundown and parts of it were completely destroyed from what looked like bomb-afflicted damage. All of its windows were shattered and the front entrance doors were unhinged. The weedy grass intertwined with parts of the building, reclaiming it back to nature.

Germany got out of the vehicle and he closed the driver's side door behind him. He slowly stepped up to the house and he stood in front of the gaping entrance in silence. As he stared at the building, his memory began recalling the dramatic moments that had occurred at this location. His stomach tightened from nerves and his heart palpitated. _'I don't need to be here,' _Germany thought. But once again, he could not convince himself further to leave. So, hesitantly, the nation decided to step inside the house to face his demons once more. He carefully squeezed himself in-between the unhinged doors and he entered the condemned building.

Spain remained inside the car and he watched his friend enter the Italian villa. He did not know what to do at this point. _'Should I follow him inside?' _he thought. He looked around his isolated surroundings and he felt strangely vulnerable being left alone. He could sense great negativity on this property and this bothered the nation tremendously. He kept looking over his shoulder, sensing that somehow he was being watched.

Spain decided then that he would be joining Germany and he opened the passenger door. He grabbed the handle to the cooler and lifted the container, deciding that he would bring it with him in case somebody was around and wanted to steal it. Afterwards, he closed the vehicle's door and he walked over to the house. He struggled trying to pass through the unhinged doors and out of frustration he kicked one of them, causing it to collapse and crash onto the ground. An accumulation of dust clouded upward after the door's impact, causing Spain to cough profusely.

When the dust subsided, Spain proceeded to walk into the house. The interior was rotting and the walls were covered with moss and aged graffiti. Lead paint chips and shards of glass sprinkled the wood rotted floor. There were still pieces of furniture inside some of the rooms that were left to rot with the rest of the house. Old, discarded paperwork were scattered all over the floor of one room; their messages typed in both German and Italian were faded and soiled with time.

Spain searched in vain for his friend, but it was obvious that Germany was no longer inside the house. The nation made his way to the patio and he stepped outside. There, he spotted Germany at a distance, standing underneath a tall, blossoming Oleander tree. He was staring out to the magnificent view of Lake Garda and the gorgeous mountainside that surrounded it. Spain walked up to him and he joined him underneath the shade. He settled the cooler down onto the grass and he timidly spoke to him.

"Ludwig…what _is_ this place?" he asked, staring to his distraught friend.

Germany did not turn around to look at Spain. Instead, his gaze remained transfixed to the heavenly landscape and his facial expression remained cold and reserved. "We're standing on the former capitol of the Nazi puppet state of The Italian Social Republic. It was the final, desperate attempt of my former regime to keep their clutches onto Italy. This puppet state never should have existed…and it _wouldn't_ have existed, either…if Feliciano hadn't returned to me."

Spain became perplexed by Germany's answer and he hesitantly spoke to him. "W-What do you mean by that?" he asked.

"His actions caused the war to prolong for another two years when it should have ended on that _day_…that one day that he was supposed to be sent away…and he blew it…all because he couldn't bear to be separated from me. And because of his decision, it caused a great division between him and his brother. And because of my own actions…it caused Romano to be spiteful against me…after all these years…he still hates me because of what I've done."

Spain was flabbergasted by Germany's vague testimony. He was aware of some of these details, but not to a full extent. What he initially knew about this topic matter was that it was a difficult and painful period in Romano's life. Romano had shared with him what needed to be known, but Spain was beginning to speculate that there was much more to this story. Spain extended his hand outward and he placed it onto Germany's left shoulder. Germany cocked his head around so that he could face him. Their eyes met and a feeling of camaraderie was arising between them.

"Ludwig…could you please tell me exactly what happened? I already know some small details…but I would just like to have my mind refreshed on this topic matter. Remember that I stayed _neutral_ during your war. I'm an outsider looking in," said Spain.

Germany slowly looked away from Spain's gaze and he stared straight ahead toward Lake Garda. He was mute for a moment, until he suddenly released a deep breath. Then, he finally spoke.

"It all started on 9th July, 1943. The Allied Forces had just invaded Sicily and they were beginning their task of liberating the island and the rest of South Italy from Nazi Occupation. Four days later, Feli's boss, Benito Mussolini was oust as leader of his Fascist regime and held under arrest. This was a great disgrace upon my government. Hitler was absolutely furious. He and his entourage were becoming distraught by their losses of territory and by Mussolini's arrest. We were losing the war. I pretended to be just as upset as they were, but deep within me, I was _relieved_ that we were losing. I _wanted_ the war to end.

"Feliciano was highly depressed during this period. He hated the war as much as I did. This was something that neither one of us wanted for our people. But more importantly, he was anguishing over the loss of Romano. We hadn't seen or heard from him since the day war broke out back in 1st September 1939. Romano had decided to break from the Axis and begin a resistance with his people back on his half of Italy. He was seen as a traitor by my government, but Hitler was not too upset by this. He never liked Romano; he saw him and all Southern Italians as racially inferior…he thought of him as a _Mongrel__*****__. _If anything, he was glad to have him gone and never saw him as a threat.

***Author's Note:** Hitler was very influenced by Mussolini and it's safe to say that he was a fanboy of his politics. However, he didn't like the Italian people despite _borrowing _many aspects of their ancient Roman culture to give an impressive representation his Reich. Hitler despised Italians from the South and especially from Sicily because of their multiethnic linage. Ironically, Mussolini didn't support Hitler's promotion of an Aryan race, probably because he realized that he didn't fit the criteria of being a part of Hitler's "master race."

"The war was killing Feliciano. He was too sensitive and too kind-hearted to be burdened by it. I wanted to help him get away from it all. I wanted to shield him away form the ugliness of war. When the Allies invaded South Italy, it gave me a glimmer of hope for his sake. I had the idea of sending him away to stay with his brother. By sending him away under Allied control, the war would be over for Italy and Feli could finally heal under Romano's protection. All I had to do was wait for the right opportunity to come up so I could perform this secret mission.

"Two months later, that very opportunity arrived. Hitler wanted to have Mussolini rescued and sent back to Berlin. My government organized a rescue mission known as The Gran Sasso Raid. Everything had been planned on the 2nd of September, the day after Sicily's liberation. I knew right then that I needed to contact Romano and to tell him my own secret operation to hand his brother over to him. I had a hunch that Romano would be staying in Sicily, but I had no idea how to find him. I wasn't even sure if he was dead or alive.

"I decided to travel alone to Sicily under an alias and take the risk of trying to find Romano. Thankfully, my efforts had not been in vain…"

* * *

**Author's Note:** I'm not going to bother to have any Sicilians speaking in their language because Goolge Translate does not offer Sicilian translation. The Sicilian language is _impossible _to translate; it's basically a language that's heavily influenced by dialect and slang.

Any Sicilian dialogue spoken for this chapter and later chapters will be written in _italics_. We'll just go along with it and pretend they're speaking in another language.

**4****th**** September 1943 – Bronte, Sicily**

Germany cautiously walked amongst the crowd of spectators jubilating over their newfound liberation from Axis occupation. He was surrounded by an abundance of multicultural celebrations in the city of Bronte, representing the various other types of celebrations that the elusive nation had witnessed while secretly passing through Sicily. Fireworks were being shot upward into the evening skyline, a far better sound for one's ears to listen to other than the sound of artillery going off.

Everywhere Germany looked there were crowds of people gleaming with happiness and relief. The heavy presence of American soldiers was seen throughout the city; many had crowded around at the heart of the city as they celebrated their victory. They were blasting their popular dance music on their record players. Some of the soldiers tried their hardest to influence the beautiful Sicilian women to partake in swing dancing. A couple of them finally gave in to their wishes, turning their backs on the ancient social protocol they were forced to acknowledge their entire lives – seen and not heard; forbidden fruit left in isolation inside their homes under the watchful eye of their male relatives or husbands. Americanism was beginning to taint their precious womanhood and they gladly welcomed it.

Germany tilted up the collar to his black leather trench coat, trying his best to conceal his identity from prying eyes trying to catch a glimpse of his face. He had not bothered to ask anyone on the whereabouts of Romano as of yet; he was still rather frustrated by his previous failed attempts in finding Italy's brother due to his insufficient skill of speaking Italian. Worst of all, he was in Sicily where _Sicilian_ was the language primarily spoken on the island. Germany had nothing to go by other than a fading black and white photograph tucked away inside his coat pocket of the Italy Brothers posing together side by side; their Erogenous curls forming one giant heart.

Germany walked past numerous smaller ethnic groups belonging to the underground Resistance that were celebrating their liberation – Sicilians, Italians, Jews, Africans and Arabs…the very people whom Hitler sneered at, thinking of them as racially inferior when compared to his superior Aryan race. Now the tables had been turned and they were the victors of the war waged in Sicily. As Germany continued to pass by them, he was unknowingly heading up to a minority group of German men – _defectors_ of the Wehrmacht whom had deserted their posts to join the Resistance. One of the men glanced up to Germany and made a double take, becoming alarmed by his presence. He stood up from the curb and he rushed up to the mysterious stranger, catching a glimpse of Germany's recognizable face.

"Es kann nicht sein ..._Deutschland?!_ (It can't be…_Germany?!_)" the former Nazi soldier cried.

Germany suddenly stopped in front of the German man, horrified that he had been recognized. Fearing that he would draw more attention upon him, he grabbed the former soldier's wrist and he forcefully led him away to an alleyway where they could speak in private.

"Deutschland! Mein Gott!" the German man cried again in great surprise. "W-What are you doing here?! Has the war finally ended for you?!"

"Shhh! Keep your voice down!" Germany sternly uttered, "Nein…the war hasn't ended. Well, at least it has for you – "

"Y-You're not here to arrest me, are you?! F-For defecting from the military – "

"Absolutely not. That isn't the reason why I've come to Sicily. Don't worry yourself…I will not say a word of our meeting to my superiors."

The German resistance member sighed with relief. "Oh, good…very good. Why are you here, Germany?" he asked.

"I've come to Sicily to find somebody; an acquaintance of mine," Germany responded as he reached inside his coat pocket to pull out the photograph, "he's a fellow nation such as myself known as South Italy. He also goes by the names _Romano Vargas _and _Lovino Vargas_. Do recognize this man?" he inquired, handing the photograph to the German man and tapping his gloved index finger upon Romano's image.

The German resistance member studied the image and he nodded. "Ja," he murmured and he handed the photograph back to Germany, "I _do_ know this man. This is _Das_ _Patenonkel! (The Godfather!)" _he exclaimed.

"Patenonkel?" Germany asked in confusion, "What do you mean? Are you referring to…the Mafia?" he nervously inquired.

"Ja!" the man answered, smiling to his nation, "he's my _boss!_ The Mafia has played a great role helping the Resistance! They gave us weaponry in exchange to loyalty to them! There's another group that works alongside the Mafia, but I don't know who they are. They don't like to bring attention upon themselves*****."

*** Author's Note:** The Mafia was highly detested by Benito Mussolini. When he gained power in Italy, the first thing he did was dismantle the power and influence of the Mafia families. The Mafia was highly persecuted and many members fled to the United States, settling in New York, New Jersey and Chicago. Mussolini's government swallowed up their ancient territories, thus preventing their return to their homeland. Any members of the Mafia or Mafia sympathizers living in Italy and Sicily were tortured and publically executed.

When WWII broke out, the United Stated Government created a new agency known as The Central Intelligence Agency (The CIA). They came to the aid of the Italian / Sicilian Mafia, training them to become spies and organizing resistances with the Italian / Sicilian people. Many members of the Mafia living in the United States secretly returned to Italy to help the U.S. Gov't win the war. In exchange, the government supplied the Mafia with an abundance of weaponry, training and money to help them re-establish themselves.

When the war ended, the Mafia regained their territories. Some of the families returned to obscurity while some larger, more powerful families remained in contact with the CIA. They would continue to form bonds and cooperate with one another. For example: When Cuba was beginning to be shunned by the United States for its Communist ties with Fidel Castro, American citizens were prohibited to travel to the island (it is _still _illegal for Americans to visit Cuba.) Cuba was known for their gambling and nightclubs. When it became illegal to visit Cuba, the Mafia bought land in Nevada and, with the blessings and funding of the U.S. Gov't, they built the Las Vegas Strip.

* * *

Germany was stunned by everything that was just told to him. His heavy heart felt lightened with hope that he would be finding Romano soon to share with him his plan to bring his twin brother back to him. "D-Do you know where he is? Where can I find Romano? I must speak to him!" he cried.

"He's _here! _Right here in Bronte! He's only been at this location for a few days; he has had to move around a lot to avert being captured by the enemy. But now that Sicily is liberated, _Das_ _Patenonkel _can stay in one place for a longer period of time. He's due to travel to the mainland to assist in their liberation in two days time. Come, I'll take you to him!"

The German man grabbed his nation by the hand. Cautiously, he led him out of the alley, averting his stare away from his comrades whom were wondering where he had went. The resistance member took Germany up to a humungous, bullet-riddled Italian mansion that was being used as the Mafia's headquarters. This would also be Romano's temporary home. Once they got to the front gate of the property, armed bodyguards greeted them.

_"What do you want?" _asked one man in Sicilian.

_"I have someone here who wishes to speak to The Godfather. It's vitally important!" _answered the German man in Sicilian.

_"Who is he to him?"_

_ "An acquaintance – "_

_ "That isn't good enough! Have you got a name?"_

The German man looked over to his nation. "He wants to know your _name," _he said.

Germany looked to the Sicilian bodyguard and he gave his name to him in a deep, hesitant tone. "L-Ludwig…Ludwig Beilschmidt. He will recognize this name – "

_"Ludwig Beilschmidt! His name is Lud-wig Beil-schmid-t! The Godfather knows this name! Ask him yourself!" _the German resistance member quickly translated.

The bodyguard grimaced and he flicked his cigarette to the ground. _"Don't tell me how to do my job!" _he hissed. Nevertheless, he did turn around and headed inside the mansion to inquire to his boss about this sudden visitation. As they waited outside, the resistance member and his nation conversed briefly to one another in their language.

_"You're fluent in Sicilian! How is this possible?" _

_ "I was taught by a few members of the Resistance! I was translator for my regiment in the Wehrmacht. I speak five languages fluently, including Sicilian."_

_ "Impressive. By the way, what is your name?"_

_ "Have I not told you? Forgive me for being so rude. My name is Jörg (George)."_

_ "Danke schön, Jörg. You've been a mighty help to me. I shall always remember your kindness."_

After a moment, the bodyguard stepped outside and returned to the front gate. He motioned with his hand to the other bodyguards standing idle by the iron gate, gesturing them to unlock it. They quickly obeyed and one of them fiddled with the lock with a key. Then, once the iron lock was removed, the gates were pulled slightly ajar.

_"The Godfather will see Mr. Beilschmidt. You will have to stay outside. He wishes to speak to him in private," _said the bodyguard in Sicilian. Jörg nodded and he stepped aside. He quickly uttered a translation to Germany and he gestured him to proceed without him. Germany expressed a sincere smile to his angel in disguise and he stepped across the boundary, entering the private property. The iron gate was slammed shut and immediately locked. Then, two bodyguards took the notion of patting down Germany, feeling for any weapons he may be concealing in his clothes. After confiscating his guns, the bodyguards stood on either side of the nation and they escorted him into the house.

* * *

The bodyguards and Germany walked across the upstairs hallway, heading to a door at the very end of the hall, guarded by two bodyguards standing beside the entrance. As they got in front of the door, the men exchanged a few words in Sicilian. One of the bodyguards nodded and he turned around and gave a distinctive knock on the door. Then, the door was unlocked from the inside and slightly cracked open. A member of the Mafioso peeked out and stared to the bodyguard calling on him.

_"He's here," _said the bodyguard in Sicilian and he gestured his head to Germany's direction. The Mafioso opened the door slightly wider to glimpse to the nation and he glared at him.

_"Fine. Let him in," _he said, and the bodyguard opened the door completely, allowing Germany to enter inside. The door was then slammed shut, causing Germany's already jittery nerves to intensify from the abrupt slam. He then realized that the room was occupied by six other Mafioso henchmen, regarded as Romano's closest entourage, dressed in handsome Italian suits and adorned with Fedora hats, silk ties and shiny, handcrafted leather shoes.

Everyone glared at him. Nobody offered any salutations to the nation. Instead, they were either sitting or standing where they were and giving forewarnings to Germany that they were armed by pulling back their coat jackets to show their hidden hand guns or actually having their weapons already in hand, polishing them in hindsight. Germany winched by their ominous presence, feeling hapless for not being armed anymore with his own guns for protection. Not knowing how to acknowledge them, he simply nodded and he turned his gaze to his feet.

One of the Mafioso walked up to another door and he knocked on it. _"Godfather, he is here," _he said in Sicilian.

_"Good. Send him to me," _ordered the nation. Germany's heart palpitated when he recognized the deep, baritone voice speaking from the other end of the door. The Mafioso gestured to Germany to come by his side and the nation obeyed and stepped up next to him. Then, the Mafioso opened the door and gestured with his hands again for Germany to enter the room. Germany obliged and he walked inside.

He stopped abruptly when he noticed Romano standing in front of his desk. He was dressed in a gorgeous black suit, black shirt and a red tie with a beautiful red Spanish carnation placed inside his left chest pocket; his subtle attempt of having any reminder of his beloved Spain close to his heart. Germany was astonished at how intimidating and powerful his presence was in front of him. Romano cunningly smirked to Germany, amused by his fascination over his appearance.

"Ludwig…it's been so long," he coldly murmured and he extended his right arm outward, expecting Germany to kiss his ruby crowned pinky ring.

"Romano…I-I'm so relieved to h-have finally found you," Germany nervously murmured as he stepped closer to his partner's twin brother. He observed Romano's extended hand but innocently did not know what was expected of him to do with it. Fearing that he may be insulting the nation, Germany hesitantly uttered a question to him.

"W-What am I supposed to do?" he solemnly asked.

"You're supposed to kiss my ring, _stupid,"_ Romano answered in his usual brash way.

"Oh, I see," Germany said and he clasped Romano's hand into his own and he bent forward, pressing his lips onto the ruby. Afterwards, Romano looked up to the Mafioso and nudged for him to leave them alone. The Mafioso obeyed and he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

"I couldn't believe my henchmen when they told me that a Mister Beilschmidt was calling on me. So…what brings you to Sicily? Are you pissed off that I've defeated your military with _my militia?"_ Romano gloated as he stepped away and walked back to his desk, sitting himself down onto his luxurious leather bound seat.

"Nein! That's not why I've come here!" Germany exclaimed.

"Oh really? Surly you've must have heard of my victories in the battlefield. Come to witness my opulence?" Romano gloated again, his pride expressing itself through his unusually newfound confidence.

Germany's mouth formed a terrible grimace. He had forgotten how rude Romano could be and his temper was beginning to flare. "I didn't come here to do _that!" _he exclaimed once more, his tone hinting impending rage.

"Chigi! Watch that temper of yours – _they're listening," _warned Romano, gesturing to the other room. "Please take a seat," he said, gesturing to the empty leather chairs sitting in front of his desk. Germany let out a deep, frustrating sigh and he obeyed by sitting himself down in the middle chair.

Romano leaned in closely upon his desk, resting his elbows onto its surface. _"Why have you come here?"_ he asked again, only this time in a hushed tone.

Germany was greatly intimidated by Romano. He never thought that he could ever make him feel this way. The tension between them was thickening up. This was not how the nation had imagined their reunion to turn out to be like; then again, they were _only_ acquaintances. He should be feeling grateful to have Romano acknowledging him at all.

Romano glared to his unexpected guest. He was becoming impatient by his stalling. "Well?! What the _fuck _is it?!" he barked. Then, a sudden realization came up on his mind and he frowned upon his unwelcomed guest. "Did _Hitler _send you here?!" he fumed.

"What?! Nein! Of course not!" Germany insisted.

"Does anybody from your regime know that you're here in Sicily?!"

"Nein! I-I sneaked away!"

"Don't fucking lie to me!"

"I'm not! I swear to you that nobody knows I'm here!" Germany looked into Romano's intimidating glare as he tried reassuring him that their conversation was indeed only known between them. "I'm here…because of your _brother," _he said.

Romano's stubborn expression suddenly softened, expressing great concern for his flesh and blood. He immediately stood up from his chair as he spoke. "_Veneziano?_ You're here because of…_Mio Dio!_ Has something happened to him?!" he cried.

"Nein! Nein, h-he's okay," Germany falsely reassured, but he found it difficult to lie to his beloved's brother. As Romano sat himself back down again, Germany continued to speak. "Actually…he _isn't…_he isn't okay at all…he'd be doing much better…if he was reunited with _you."_

"I-I don't understand," uttered Romano, his frown returning upon his handsome face. "What is happening to Veneziano?"

"He's_ ill_…he's very ill indeed," answered Germany in a serious, yet remorseful tone and his striking blue eyes interlocked with Romano's lovely brown eyes. "The war is slowly _killing him. _He suffers from depression and post-traumatic stress. He _weeps _for you…you are _always_ dwelling on his mind…"

Romano became downcast, averting his eyes away from Germany's penetrating stare. "H-He…he has?" he murmured, his throat tightening with emotion.

"Yes…he misses you very much."

Romano looked back up to Germany and his tone began sounding frustrated. "What am I supposed to do about this?! He's a member of the Axis Powers! He's a member of _your_ regime! – "

"So were you – "

"He's the _better half!_ He has a purpose with your regime, no matter how_ horrible_ it must be for him to endure!"

"He would have_ greater_ purpose being reunited with _you_ again! You give him _strength!_ Italy cannot withstand being separated any longer from you! You're two halves of a whole! Together, you _are_ Italy! He needs you to shelter him from the cruelties of humanity! He _needs_ his _brother!"_

Romano stood himself up from his chair again and he walked to the side, turning his back to Germany. He fought with himself not to weep in front of him. Knowing how his twin was suffering burdened his heart. He felt absolutely helpless in this complicated situation. "What am I supposed to do?!" he cried.

"I-I could help you," answered Germany.

Romano suddenly turned around and he scoffed to the nation. "PFFT! Oh, and how the fuck are you going to do that?! By _giving him up_ and handing him over to me like exchanging a fucking present?!" he bitterly teased.

Germany sternly looked to Romano and he nodded. "Ja," he answered, causing Romano's jaw to drop.

"W-What?" he stammered.

"That's exactly what I want to do. I want to hand him over to you. I'll be giving him up to you."

"But how do you plan on doing this?! How could this be legitimately done?!"

"It can't be done legitimately. I will be going against my government by secretly giving Italy to you. We're losing the war, Romano. We're losing territory every day whenever the Allied forces liberate more of our claimed provinces. Italy is vitally important for us. If we lose Italy, then ceasefire may surly come afterwards."

"You don't know that!" Romano scoffed as he sat himself down again, "The war may continue despite your government losing Veneziano!"

"That is true," concurred Germany, "But at least the war would officially end for him by being under Allied occupation. The war would end for you too, as well as for your people. If we pull this off, we could prevent any more suffering to happen to them."

Romano deeply sighed and he nodded in agreement. "This is something that both Veneziano and I would want for our people. We care about them so much. They look to us for guidance. This could be a great opportunity for them."

"Then will you listen to my plan?" asked Germany.

Romano sternly looked into Germany's eyes. Without any hesitance, he nodded, giving his approval on the situation. "Yes, I will," he said.

"Do you have a map?" asked Germany and Romano quickly pulled opened the drawers to his desk. Finding no map in their compartments, he stood up and searched around the room for a map. When he could not find one, Romano went over to the door. He opened it and gave orders to his men in Sicilian. The Mafioso loyally obeyed their leader; five of the men entered inside the room while the sixth man went off to grab a map from the other room. Momentarily, he would return with the coiled map held under his arm, accompanied by members of the CIA.

With everyone back inside the room and its door securely locked, the Mafioso unrolled the map of Italy onto Romano's desk and other men placed heavy items to its corners, pinning it in place. Romano briefly spoke with agents of the CIA and made no attempts at introducing them or any of his henchmen to Germany. The CIA agents figured out who Germany was just by looking at him and they heavily debated with Romano, questioning the legitimacy of his visit.

"Don't worry. We can trust him," murmured Romano.

"But he is the _enemy! _How can you say this?"questioned one CIA agent.

Romano looked to the agent's eyes with contempt, which surprised Germany to see him react this way on his behalf. "He came on good terms in regards to bringing my brother back to me. He wants the war to end just as much as we do."

"Why do you easily trust him?!" asked another CIA agent.

"Because…he is my _friend," _uttered Romano and he looked back to Germany. "Tell us your plans," he said.

Germany fumbled in his speech after listening to Romano referring him as a friend. He had not expected that word to ever come out of his mouth. "M-My government…they're…Hitler has planned a secret operation to bust Mussolini out of house arrest in Abruzzo, in the region of Umbria…ach, where is it?" he mumbled while his index finger hovered above the map, looking for the exact location to pinpoint.

"It's right here," answered Romano and he tapped his index finger on the printed text that said _Abruzzo._ "Mussolini is under house arrest at Campo Imperatore Hotel, isn't he?" he questioned.

"Yes, he is. Under Hitler's command, we will arrive to this location by airplane and perform a surprise raid at the hotel in order to whisk Mussolini out of the building. Der Führer has named this operation _The Gran Sasso Raid. _I have planned in my head that during the chaos that will unfold during the raid, I could hand Feliciano to you, Romano, and you and your men could escape with him back to the South."

Romano looked to Germany in astonishment and he glanced to his henchmen and the CIA agents. They mumbled to one another over everything that was told. Then, their soft mumbling subsided and Romano looked to Germany. "What day will your raid be performed?" he asked.

"8th September, in the early afternoon," answered Germany.

Romano spoke to his entourage once again on this complicated situation. Then, after a moment of waiting, the men broke their huddle and they looked to Germany. Romano's face remained in full seriousness, but his brown eyes were glistening with a new hope for his reunion with his dear brother. "We'll do it," he said, "we'll go along with your plan. I want Veneziano back with me." He then extended his arm out to him, wanting to shake on the deal.

Germany hesitantly held Romano's hand, not knowing whether to shake it or to kiss his ring again. For a brief moment, Romano's lips formed a tiny smile and he slowly motioned his arm up and down. "You shake it," he teased.

Germany expressed a rare smile of his own as he clasped his hand with his supposed friend. They gripped one another's hands tightly and they shook on their anticipated planning.

* * *

Germany's retelling of his encounter with Romano was abruptly interrupted as he was handed a chilled bottle of opened beer by Spain. Both nations were now sitting side by side beneath the blossoming Oleander tree, admiring the majestic view of Lake Garda. Germany looked to his friend and he briefly smiled, accepting the beer from him. He chugged half of its contents down his throat while Spain only took a few sips. Germany's nerves were apparent and he was glad to have his alcohol to calm them down a bit.

Spain settled his beer onto the grass and he looked to Germany in admiration. "That was a really bold thing you did, going to Sicily alone like that and in wartime too, of all things! You were very brave," he said.

"I suppose," Germany hesitantly uttered and he took another swag of his beer.

"I remember a little bit from this point on about The Gran Sasso Raid. But it didn't work out, did it?"

Germany released a deep sigh and he settled his now empty beer bottle onto the ground. "That's just it – it _did _work out. Everything went swimmingly as I had imagined it would…and then…Feliciano did something unimaginable_…_and everything fell through…"

* * *

**8t****h**** September, 1943 – Abruzzo, Umbria, Italy**

Axis military airplanes painted in wartime-camouflage were preparing to descend upon the desolate mountain resort of Campo Imperatore Hotel. Inside one of the aircrafts sat Germany with his weakened partner Italy sitting by his side. Luftwaffe soldiers, heavily armed in preparation for the raid, accompanied them. The other aircrafts were in possession of other Fallschirmjäger paratroopers and Waffen-SS commandos. Important military figures such as Major Otto-Harald Mors and Otto Skorzeny were coming along to lead the raid.

Behind the hotel at a great distance away parked four black military jeeps belonging to the Allies. CIA agents, Mafioso and their beloved Godfather Romano occupied the jeeps. They remained in waiting for the raid to commence and to perform their duties of taking possession of Italy. They spotted the Axis airplanes up in their air arriving to their destination. Everyone held their weaponry closely to themselves as they anticipated the raid to begin. Romano stared intently to the airplanes, wondering to himself as to which one possessed his brother.

_'Fear not, my dear Veneziano! I'm here to rescue you!'_ he valiantly thought.

Then, as the Axis military aircrafts were beginning to descend to the ground, shouts could be heard from the hotel in Italian. The staff to the hotel and members of the Carabinieri (Italian military police) were preparing for battle. "THEY'VE COME FOR MUSSOLINI!" one police officer screamed, "PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR COUNTER-ATTACK!" At this very moment, the Axis airplanes crash-landed onto the ground and surrounding the extravagant hotel at all angles. Immediately, the Luftwaffe and Fallschirmjäger solders, Waffen-SS agents and their leaders leaped out and raided the hotel, giving no time for the Carabinieri to strike against them.

One of the Carabinieri police officers ran inside another room where their communications equipment were stationed. He nervously turned on the machines and he fervently called for backup.

"WE NEED BACKUP! WE'RE UNDER SEIGE AT CAMPO IMPERAT – OOF!" Suddenly, Otto Skorzeny entered the room and he punched the police officer in the face. Skorzeny then took the microphone out of the unconscious officer's hands. He turned off the radio signal and pressed a button to turn on the intercom to the entire hotel.

"_Duce_, der Führer has sent me to set you free!*****" he mightily cried.

Suddenly, from a room flights above his head, he could hear Mussolini's deep voice loudly giving praise. _"I KNEW THAT MY FRIEND WOULD NOT FORSAKE ME_!*****" he happily shouted.

***Author's Note:** This actually happened during the raid.

While the raid was happening inside the hotel, Germany and Italy sneaked away from the scene and they ran behind the estate to where Romano and his entourage would be waiting for them. Their hands were tightly held as Germany led the weakened nation away from the raid. As they ran further ahead, they spotted the military jeeps from afar. "T-There they are!" panted Germany.

At this very moment, Romano spotted both Germany and Italy running up to their direction. "They're coming to us!" he cried and immediately the engines to the jeeps were turned on. They sped over to their direction, sparing the nations from running any further up the steep hillside and they parked themselves around them, surrounding their presence. Romano jumped out of his vehicle and he emotionally embraced and conversed with his twin.

"VENEZIANO! OH, VENEZIANO! MI FRATELLO!" he shouted and he hugged Italy tightly in his arms.

Italy's eyes watered up immensely as he was being held in his brother's arms and he pressed his face against Romano's khaki uniform and sobbed. "ROMANO! ROMANO! I-IT'S REALLY Y-YOU!" he choked.

Romano quickly pulled Italy away from himself and he tenderly kissed his face. It was then that he realized how _terrible _his brother's physical appearance looked to him – he had dark circles under his tired, bloodshot eyes and he appeared slightly hollow-cheeked. "Christ! You look like shit!" he gasped with great concern. He then embraced his brother again in his arms and he tenderly stroked his auburn hair. "Don't you worry, Veneziano…you're safe now…I'm taking you away from _all of this_…I'll protect you, _sweetheart,"_ he loving uttered in Italy's ear.

As he held Italy in his arms, he extended his left hand outward for Germany to grasp. Germany recognized this gesture and he reached over and held Romano's hand with his own. He looked into Romano's moistened brown eyes and he emotionally gulped as he heard his gratitude to him.

"Grazie! Grazie mille!" cried Romano and his grip to Germany's hand tightened.

Germany simply nodded to him; he was too moved by the Italy Brothers' reunion to say anything. Moments later, the brothers would part again and Italy turned around to gaze at his beloved. His saddened expression became more distressed when he realized that it was time for him to be separated from Germany.

_ "L-Ludwig…"_ he whispered.

Germany's striking blue eyes began to moisten by the way his partner uttered his name. They knew that they could not hug or kiss one another goodbye in the same fashion as straight couple were privileged enough to do. So instead, Germany reached over and he firmly grasped Italy's gloved hand.

"Don't worry about me. I'll be all right. I can handle all of this," he murmured.

"B-But Ludwig…" Italy started to whine until Germany gestured to him to hush up.

"This isn't _goodbye…_we'll reunite soon when the war is over. Go with your brother, Feli. Go now! You're running out of time!" Germany sternly ordered.

"B-But…but Ludwig – "

"I SAID GO!" Germany suddenly shouted to his illicit lover. "GET OUT OF HERE!"

"C'mon, Veneziano!" said Romano and he led him to his jeep. Italy reluctantly followed his twin and he sat himself down inside the jeep. Romano sat next to him and he brotherly doted to him. "Everything's going to be all right!" he reassured. Then, he gestured to his driver and the jeep began to drive away from Germany's presence, followed by the other three jeeps caravanning behind them.

Italy looked over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of his partner one last time. As the jeep sped further way, Germany's presence began diminishing from his stare. When the jeeps began going downhill, Germany's image descended behind the hillside until he was completely invisible from view. It would be at this moment when Germany allowed himself to express his grief from being departed by his lover and a single tear escaped from the corner of his eye.

_'This isn't goodbye,' _he reminded himself and he turned around and headed back to the raid.

Italy turned around and faced ahead, his chest aching with broken heartedness. He hated to be apart from Germany, but at the same he was glad to be with his brother again whom he had not seen in almost four years. Never in his life had he ever felt conflicted before in his life. He despised being apart from his beloved, but it _was _for the best.

Or so he thought. Until…

"Yes! That's right! We have possession of North Italy! He's in Allied hands right now as I speak! Give orders to the Pentagon that we are all ready to _declare war on Germany!"_

Italy's jaw dropped after he overheard one of the CIA agents speaking through a communications device to his superiors. His heart began palpitating and he became panic stricken. He looked to Romano for answers, only to see that his brother was just as flabbergasted as he was about the CIA agent's declaration.

"I-I don't know what this is about! I had_ nothing_ to do with this!" cried Romano.

"Germany thought that the war would end for us if I went along with you! Why are you doing this?!" Italy emotionally gasped and his throat tightened with emotion.

_ "I told you!_ This has nothing to do with me! Those men do their own thing! I-I work for them! I have no control in what they do!" Romano adamantly insisted and he tried to embrace his twin, only to be roughly pushed away. Romano's feelings were slightly hurt by this cold gesture and he grimaced to his brother.

"Don't get so fucking upset! You'll still be spared from the battlefield! You'll be staying with me in Sicily! We'll be together – "

"I don't _want_ us to be together!" Italy suddenly cried, stunning Romano and the rest of the Mafioso sitting with them in their jeep.

Romano's lips began to quiver after hearing what his brother had said. His cold statement made him feel as if sharp daggers were piercing through his heart. "W-What did you s-say?" he stammered.

Italy glared to his brother with tears streaming down his face. "You're asking me to turn a blind eye to the situation and to _accept _this _backstabbing _behind Germany! I can't let you do this! This wasn't the reason why I agreed to go away with you! Germany and I are _allies _one way or the other, and I _refuse_ to fight against him or to stand in solidarity on the opposite side!"

"Veneziano, you're delusional! Y-You don't know what you're talking about! Calm down, fratello – "

"I will _not _calm down! I've spoken my peace! Let me out of the jeep!" Italy angrily demanded.

Romano's temper suddenly flared up and he pounded his fist against the inner side passenger door. "ARE YOU FUCKING WITH ME?! WE'VE RISKED OUR LIVES TO SAVE YOUR SORRY ASS AND _NOW_ YOU WANT OFF?! IT AIN'T GONNA HAPPEN! YOU'RE COMING BACK HOME WITH ME!" he furiously shrieked.

"NO! N-NO I WON'T!" Italy boldly screamed back and more tears streamed down his face. "STOP THE JEEP! I WANT OFF! I WANT TO GO BACK TO LUDWIG! I MUST GO BACK TO – "

_ SLAP!_

Suddenly, Italy's pleas were stifled by a powerful slap given to his face by his twin. His left cheek turned a deep scarlet from where he had been slapped and the stinging sensation coming forth from it overwhelmed the sensitive nation. This was the first time that his brother had ever physically assaulted him. Before he could fully react to what had happened to him, Romano forcefully gripped his blue military collar with his right hand, dominating over his passiveness.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE WHAT I'M HEARING FROM YOU! YOU'RE CHOOSING GERMANY OVER _ME?!_ YOUR OWN _BROTHER!_ HAVEN'T YOU THOUGHT OF THE RAMIFICATIONS OF GOING BACK TO HIM?! THE WAR WILL CONTINUE! YOU'LL CONTINUE TO SUFFER! _OUR PEOPLE_ WILL CONTINUE TO SUFFER! WHY WOULD YOU WANT THAT FOR THEM?!"

"THE WAR'S GOING TO CONTINUE NO MATTER WHAT! WE'VE BOTH JUST OVERHEARD WHAT THAT MAN SAID OVER THE SYSTEM! IT'S ALL IN VAIN! THIS WHOLE MISSION WAS IN VAIN!"

"AND YOU'D RATHER BE WITH _HIM – THAT FUCKING POTATO BASTARD – THAN WITH ME AND YOUR OWN KIND?!"_

_ "PLEASE TRY TO UNDERSTAND, ROMA! I-I LOVE HIM!" _Italy proudly screamed, unashamed and unafraid of the backlash he would face from the other witnesses.

Romano became broken spirited after hearing his twin's declaration. He suddenly shoved Italy against the seat cushion, pinning him down so he could not try to escape. He began to sorrowfully scream at him, causing his entourage to fearfully witness his rage. "WHAT ABOUT _ME?! _WHY DON'T YOU LOVE _ME?! _YOU'VE REPLACED MY ROLE IN YOUR LIFE WITH HIM! HOW COULD HE EVER BE MORE IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN YOUR OWN _FLESH AND BLOOD?!_ HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?!"

Italy violently fidgeted beneath the weight of his brother as he tried to escape from his hold. "LET GO OF ME! HE _NEEDS_ ME!" he screamed.

_"I NEED YOU, TOO!" _

"LET GO OF ME!"

_"NEVER!" _Romano incensed as he struggled to keep Italy pinned down, but suddenly his brother extended his fisted hand and he _punched _him in the face, leaving his nose injured and bloody. Italy violently shoved him to the side and he irrationally leaped out of the moving vehicle, crashing upon the rough, patchy ground. His fragile body ached in tremendous pain after landing upon the hard, flat surface, but nevertheless, he forced himself onto his feet and he made a mad dash back to be by Germany's side.

"GODFATHER!" cried the Mafioso henchmen as they assisted their leader whose face was now bloodied by his brother's solid blow. Romano ignored the trickling blood seeping from his nostril and he stood upright in the vehicle, screaming to his brother.

_"VENEZIANO! COME BACK! – TURN AROUND! TURN THE FUCKING JEEP AROUND! NOW!" _he furiously commanded to his driver. The driver loyally obeyed and he maneuvered the speeding vehicle in a frantic U-Turn. The other jeeps following them abruptly stopped and the CIA agents questioned what had just happened.

Italy ran as fast as he possibly could across the rocky terrain. As he got closer to the scene of the raid, he spotted two airplanes ascending back into the sky. He concluded that the raid must have ended and Mussolini was in Axis possession. Italy forced his aching legs to carry him faster across the hillside, hoping to God that Germany was still on the ground instead of being a passenger in one of those airplanes departing from the scene.

When he ran further up, Italy immediately spotted the tall, blonde nation at a distance. Choking with great emotion and hastily out of breath, the nation shouted to his beloved as loudly as he possibly could to get his attention. "LUDWIG! LUDWIIIG!" he desperately bellowed.

Germany overheard the familiar voice shouting his name and he turned around and spotted his partner running up to him. "What?!" he gasped as he recognized Italy's presence and he quickly ran over to his side. When they got closer to one another, Italy slammed his body against Germany's, embracing him tightly in his arms and breaking down into uncontrollable sobbing.

"LUDWIG!" he shouted again and he was about to bury his face against his partner's chest until Germany violently pulled him away.

"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO WITH YOUR BROTHER!" Germany furiously shrieked to his partner. It was then that he noticed how Italy's blue uniform was now splattered with blood. "WHAT'S HAPPENED?! YOUR UNIFORM IS STAINED – "

"I-I CAN'T GO WITH THEM! I CAN'T LEAVE WITH MY BROTHER! PLEASE DON'T SEND ME BACK!" Italy emotionally pleaded and he gripped his gloved hands upon Germany's forearms.

Germany grimaced to Italy and he tried pushing him off of himself, but Italy surprisingly kept a firm grip onto his arms. "YOU _HAVE _TO GO BACK! IT'S FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!" he demanded.

"BUT IT _ISN'T!" _Italy stressed and he suddenly coughed profusely caused by his sobbing. When his small coughing spell finally subsided, he finished his point to his partner. "ONE OF THE MEN CALLED SOMEBODY IMPORTANT ON THE ALLIED SIDE THROUGH THEIR RADIO! THEY WANTED TO INCLUDE _ME_ IN THEIR DECLARATION OF WAR AGAINT _YOU!"_

Germany stopped forcing Italy away from himself, becoming stunned by what was told to him. He became greatly upset by this terrible turn of events, but concealed his feelings from being seen in order to appear resilient to Italy. He continued to listen to Italy's pleas to stay with him and to take along back to their airplane.

"DON'T MAKE ME GO BACK WITH THEM! I CAN'T BEAR TO FIGHT AGAINST YOU ON THE OPPOSITE SIDE! DON'T ALLOW THEM TO FORCE ME TO POINT MY GUN TO YOUR DIRECTION! TAKE ME BACK WITH YOU! PLEASE, LUDWIG! PLEASE TAKE ME BACK WITH YOU! I LOVE YOU!"

Suddenly, Germany felt compelled to give affection to his distraught partner and he boldly leaned in and planted his lips upon Italy's own. Germany had officially changed his mind about sending his beloved away. When their lips finally parted, Romano's jeep pulled up to the top of the hillside and remained parked. Both Germany and Italy glanced to his direction and Germany noticed Romano's bloodied injury to his face.

"Did you do _that?"_ he softly questioned.

Italy simply nodded, feeling ashamed for inflicting harm to his brother. Then, Romano stood up from inside the jeep, as well as members of his entourage and he cupped his hands around his mouth.

"GERMANY! YOU CAUGHT HIM! BRAVO! BRING VENEZIANO BACK TO ME!" ordered Romano.

Italy expected his partner to immediately retrieve him and to forcefully drag him back toward the jeep. But instead, Germany remained still, his piercing eyes staring to Romano's direction. "Ludwig? What are you thinking?" asked Italy.

Romano impatiently glared to the nations' direction and he shouted another order to them again. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! BRING VENEZIANO BACK TO ME!"

Germany slowly turned his gaze to his beloved. _"You're coming with me," _he whispered and he suddenly scooped Italy up in his arms. He then turned his back to Romano and he hurriedly ran back to their awaiting airplane. Italy was too shocked to respond to this sudden action. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Germany's neck and he nervously looked over his partner's shoulder to see his twin's reaction.

Romano was fuming with rage and he punched his fisted hands onto the windshield to his jeep. "VENEZIANO! NOOO! YOU BASTARDS! YOU FUCKING BASTARDS! GOD DAMN YOU!" he shrieked. He ordered his driver to pursue them further down the hillside, but the driver refused to do so, fearing that they would be discovered by the large Nazi presence at the hotel. Romano and his men were clearly outnumbered and it would have been futile for them to chase Germany and Italy any further than they already had now.

They watched the two nations run up to their airplane, now possessing their liberated passenger Mussolini, and they stepped inside. The door to the airplane was then pulled upward and slammed shut by two soldiers. The propellers reached their potential speed and the pilots maneuvered the military airplane away from the hotel and ascending back into the sky.

Romano ominously glared to the airplane possessing his brother and he uttered a Sicilian curse. Italy had committed the greatest sin against him in accordance to Sicilian society – he betrayed his _family. _Honoring his prideful lineage, Romano vowed _vengeance _upon his brother's head. Romano was a man of his word. He would not allow this great insult against him to go unpunished. One way or another, he was now determined to avenge himself from his brother's painful rebuttal against him.

* * *

Germany guzzled down his second bottle of chilled beer. After he emptied its contents, he placed the bottle to his side, accompanying the first bottle he finished earlier. There was a long silence between himself and his friend Spain, who had been glued to every word of his retelling of their partners' actions during the Gran Sasso Raid. Spain tried to lighten the mood somewhat by offering Germany a handful of homemade sweets, but the nation refused his kind gesture. Spain placed the sweets back into the cooler and he closed the container shut.

Both men stared outward to Lake Garda. Their eyes followed a platinum white powerboat speeding across the vast lake, pulling a couple waterskiing together from behind. Both nations pondered as to whether or not those individuals having fun on the lake were aware of the beautiful lakeside's notorious history. They continued watching the powerboat and the water-skiers circling around on the lake's surface until they finally sailed away into the distance. It would be then that Germany would break his silence and continue retelling the past to Spain.

"After Mussolini's rescue from house arrest and after the falling through between Feliciano and Romano, a _second war _broke out known in the history textbooks as the Italian Civil War. It was a civil war fought between Axis North Italy versus Allied South Italy. It was a civil war fought between _brothers_…" Germany paused to swallow the lump forming in his throat. Then, he continued to speak. "…the civil war was fought for almost two years…there were…too many casualties…

"Feliciano was sent to Saló and forced to remain here inside that house that's standing behind us, representing the faux capital of the Nazi puppet state of the Italian Social Republic. Benito Mussolini stayed here with him for almost a year, presiding over nobody, his former valiant presence being reduced to a pathetic old man reliving the glory years of his former regime in his imagination. Neither one had any real political power. They were figureheads and the last remaining hold of Italy by my government. Romano, with the help of the Allied forces, the Mafia and the CIA liberated all of South Italy, including the capitol, Rome, and they extended their presence further up north."

"Where were you during that time?" asked Spain.

"I was sent back to Berlin. I, as well as Gilbert, were expected to advise Der Führer in his decision-making. He _never_ listened to us. He never listened to anyone but himself. By the end of 1944, he became even more delusional than he ever was before and Parkinson's disease was riddling his body. In the end, he blamed the German people and us for losing the war. It was our fault for letting him down. He remained blameless, of course, in his own universe.

"By April of 1945, the war in Europe was coming swiftly to an end. German soldiers retreated back to Berlin, especially from Northern Italy. Even Mussolini fled from Saló, leaving Feliciano behind at their hoax capital. He was later captured by Communist partisans and publically executed. His body was beaten, stoned and spat upon by the Italian people and he was hung on display in Milan after the war ended."

"What happened to Feli? Did he remain here?"

"Yes. He was afraid to venture out from the safety of this isolated location. I think he also stayed behind because he was hoping that I would come to rescue him. I never did return to this place. I don't know whether or not he was completely alone here to fend for himself or if there were any staff left to tend to him…there's so much information that's been withheld from me."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is…I don't know what he went through staying here in Saló. I don't know what he endured during the final days of the war. I've tried questioning him many times in the past, but when I did, he became withdrawn and very emotional. I stopped asking him years ago because I hated to see him so downtrodden. I _still _wish I knew though…I've been wanting to know for almost seventy years."

Spain looked away from his friend, averting his stare down to his sandals. He nervously bit down onto his bottom lip, stifling the urge to say something to Germany. When that very urge refused to subside, Spain took in a deep breath. He released his grip onto his bottom lip and spoke.

"I…I _know_ what happened."

"What?" gasped Germany and he looked to the nation in disbelief. "But how?"

"Romano…he told me everything a long time ago…he was drunk one evening…and he was gloating to me about his actions...and what he had done when he came to Saló…I-I've just remembered…"

Germany's eyes widened in great anticipation to what would be shared with him. But then he noticed Spain's reluctant expression on his handsome face and the nation was becoming impatient. "Well? What happened? Why won't you proceed?" he cried.

Spain turned his gaze to Germany's penetrating stare and he slowly shook his head. "I…I don't think that you should know," he mumbled.

Germany let out a low growl of frustration and he glared to his friend. "Don't pull this shit on me now! I've been waiting _seventy years_ to know what happened to Feli! For God's sake! Please tell me what happened, no matter how painful it might be for me to listen! Please, Ant!" he pleaded and he placed his hand onto Spain's right shoulder.

Spain timidly looked away from Germany, cocking his head to look over his shoulder to see the condemned Italian villa. "Romano told everything to me back in the late 1940's…like I said, he was drunk…he has no idea that I'm aware of what occurred here. He, his men and the American military invaded Saló just days before the war officially ended. There was combat and fatalities. Many Fascists were being hidden away inside the homes of sympathizers. It was Romano's job to weed them out and to either have them arrested or to have them executed.

"He and his men came to this house to do a thorough investigation. Little did they realize that Feli would be inside…"

"What happened?" inquired Germany impatiently, his ancient heart pounding inside his inner ear. Spain looked back to Germany and their eyes briefly met until he looked away, focusing his stare on the tall, untrimmed grass.

"They quarreled…"

* * *

Romano and his Mafioso henchmen deviously walked onto the private property of the humungous Italian villa with their automated weapons pointed outward, ready to strike down any combatants willing to attack them. As they walked closer to the assumed abandoned mansion, they noticed newly scarred bullet holes damaging its foundation and part of the roof had also collapsed, as if it had been a victim of an airborne bomb attack.

Romano snapped his fingers twice and pointed for his henchmen to go surround the mansion at different angles. His men loyally obeyed him and they scurried to their appointed positions. Only his closest associates would remain by his side, protecting their beloved Godfather from harm's way. When they got to the front door of the mansion, the men carefully peered through the shattered windows to try to catch a glimpse of anyone hiding inside. It was impossible for them to determine whether or not the property was indeed abandoned.

Meanwhile, inside the mansion, Italy was lying on the floor inside one of the upstairs bedrooms. He was suffering from terrible bouts of stress after being the lone survivor of the previous attack upon his sanctuary; many of his assigned bodyguards and staff had been shot and killed by their attackers. Some of the German soldiers fled the scene and abandoned their post to guard Italy in his defunct puppet capital. The attack on the property had been caused by local militia that had suddenly rose up against their occupiers just days before the Allied forces had arrived to Saló.

Italy was able to survive by hiding himself inside a secret room beneath the floorboard to the kitchen. He remained underneath the floorboard for two days without food or water to nourish his weakened body. Even after the local militia departed from the mansion, Italy remained hidden beneath the floorboard for two more days, too afraid to emerge from his perfect hiding spot. While he was hiding, a random bomb had been dropped onto the roof of the mansion by an American aircraft passing over. The bomb had blown off a large portion of the roof, inflicting it with a permanent gaping hole.

When Italy was hiding under the floorboard, a frightening thought shot through his mind – how will Germany be able to find him when he returned to rescue him? Italy had a great assumption that his beloved would be coming any day now to whisk him away from this deplorable hellhole. All he wanted was to be able to see him again and to have his strong arms enveloping him in his protective embrace and to shield him away from the horrors of humanity.

The war was to end very soon, he thought. Germany would come back for him, he thought. It was the only pure thing that kept Italy going; it was what gave him the will to live. Thoughts of his dear brother came up in his mind from time to time, but Italy felt too ashamed for letting him down by not going away to Sicily with him two years ago. He should have gone with him, he thought. Germany had been right, he thought. Italy wondered whether or not he would ever see Romano again and if their relationship between them would ever be the same.

After Italy had emerged from his hiding spot in the kitchen, he scurried upstairs to hide in one of the bedrooms, just so he could not see nor _smell _the decomposing bodies of his former staff stinking up the lower level of the house. He remained inside the bedroom ever since, waiting and hoping for Germany to come and get him. His dull, brown eyes transfixed to the late afternoon sky above his head through the gaped hole of the damaged roof. He stared at every purple hued cottony cloud that slowly passed by as he patiently waited for his beloved to arrive.

And he waited…and he waited…until he heard the distinctive sound of a doorknob being jerked downstairs.

Immediately, Italy shot up in sitting position. He had recalled how he locked the front door after emerging from his hiding spot; it was his futile attempt to keep out the insurgents if they ever decided to return. His heart began beating rapidly, thumping inside his chest cavity and he suddenly became breathless. Could it be Germany trying to get in? "Ludwig!" he softly yelped and he stood himself up and made a mad dash out of the bedroom.

"VE~! LUDWIG!" Italy happily shouted as he hurriedly stepped down the stairs. Once at the bottom floor, he jumped over the bloated bodies obstructing his way and he rushed over to the front door. He quickly unlocked it and he irrationally opened the door.  
"LUDWIG! YOU'RE BACK! YOU'VE COME BACK TO – " Italy instantly stifled his speech when he realized that Germany was not the one trying to come inside the house. There, standing in front of the nation was his twin brother Romano with four of his closest associates standing around him. "R-Romano! Ve~! It's you! I-I can't believe my eyes!" Italy emotionally cried, his voice expressing great sincerity in his tone.

This was not enough to pacify the snubbed nation. Romano was highly offended over his brother's erratic behaviour. _"You_ _motherfucker!_ You were expecting _him! _Even _now, _he's more important to you than your own _fucking brother!" _he vexed.

Italy cowardly hunched by the intimidating tone of Romano's voice. "I-It's not true! I-I just w-wasn't expecting you to be here! I-I didn't know you'd be at the door!" he stammered.

"Bullshit!" sneered Romano. Then, in an uncontrollable rage, he unexpectedly propped up his AK-47 and he violently slammed the butt against Italy's face, causing him to lose his balance and falling backwards, landing over a decomposing corpse.

"AHHH!" Italy pathetically screamed after landing onto the corpse. He began squirming himself away from it and made an attempt to stand himself up until he was suddenly hit again in the face, this time by the fisted hand of his brother. "R-ROMA! STOP IT! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME?!" he protested as he was slammed against the wooden floor, his face becoming bloodied by his injured nose.

Romano superiorly stood over his terrorized brother and he grimaced to him, his brown eyes wildly staring down to his presence. "BECAUSE IT'S WHAT YOU DESERVE! ONCE AGAIN, YOU'VE INSULTED ME!" he shrieked.

"I-I DIDN'T MEAN TO, ROMA! I'M SORRY!" Italy choked as he held up his arms to shield his face in case his brother decided to punch him again.

Romano shook his head after hearing his brother's apology. "YOU'RE SORRY?"he jeered in disbelief, "SORRY FOR WHAT?! SORRY FOR BETRAYING ME? FOR TURNING YOUR BACK ON ME WHEN I WAS THERE FOR YOU? OR ARE YOU APOLOGIZING FOR ABANDONING YOUR OWN PEOPLE FOR THE SAKE OF THAT FUCKING POTATO BASTARD?!"

"I DIDN'T ABANDON OUR PEOPLE! I LOVE THEM, ROMA! YOU KNOW THAT'S TRUE!"

"YOU DIDN'T LOVE THEM ENOUGH, APPRENTLY! THAT FUCKING BASTARD WAS _WAY MORE_ IMPORTANT TO YOU THAN ANY OF US! YOU STAYED WITH THE ENEMY! YOU CHOOSED _HIM_ OVER _US!"_

"IT ISN'T SO! I LOVE YOU, ROMA! AND OUR PEOPLE!" Italy fervently insisted and he tried to stand himself up. But suddenly, Romano threw his AK-47 onto the ground and he forcefully gripped his brother by the shoulders. He turned him around and he shoved Italy's face against the decomposing corpse.

"TAKE A GOOD WHIFF!" Romano angrily hissed while he pressed Italy onto the corpse, causing his brother to suddenly gag by the putrid smell of death lingering from it. "THIS IS THE SMELL THAT PERMEATES ALL THROUGHOUT ITALY! TAKE IT ALL IN – I'VE HAD NO CHOICE BUT TO BREATHE THIS FOUL AIR FOR THE PAST SIX YEARS!"

"R-ROMA! –gag– RELEASE ME!" Italy choked, but his pleas caused Romano to want to hold him down harder against the body.

"OH, FUCK NO! YOU TAKE IT ALL IN! I WANT YOU TO _REMEMBER_ THIS SMELL! BREATHE IN DEEPLY, YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE, AND THINK ABOUT OUR PEOPLE – WHOM YOU'VE DECLARED YOU LOVE – LEFT TO DIE AND FESTER IN THE STREETS!"

Italy was becoming enraged – a personality trait he seldom ever expressed – and he forced himself away from being pressed onto the corpse. "OH, PISS OFF, ROMANO!" he screamed and he maneuvered his right elbow to plow against his twin's abdomen, causing him to relinquish his hold. Romano gasped from the painful blow to his stomach and he placed both of his hands onto the inflicted area. Italy finally stood himself up and he tried to lunge at Romano again, but then he was instantaneously surrounded with the barrels of the Mafioso's AK-47's.

"DON'T EVEN TRY IT!" shouted one man and he pressed the barrel to his gun against Italy's left cheek.

"WE NEED BACK UP!" shouted another man and immediately, the rest of the Mafioso surrounding the exterior ran into the house to protect their beloved Godfather.

"Are you okay, Godfather?!" cried one man as witnessed Romano clutching his gut. The nation simply nodded to the man, indicating to him that he was fine. Then, Italy was firmly held onto by his arms by two Mafioso, keeping him from getting any closer to his brother. Italy sneered to Romano and he shouted lividly to his direction.

"YOU'RE ONE TO TALK! YOU'VE GIVEN ME SO MUCH GRIEF! YOU THINK OF YOURSELF AS A MARTYR! WELL, YOU'RE NOT! INSTIGATING ATTACKS UPON MY CITIZENS OF THE NORTH BY YOUR CITIZENS OF THE SOUTH DOES _NOT_ MAKE YOU SINLESS!"

"THE CIVIL WAR NEVER WOULD HAVE HAPPENED IF _YOU _HADN'T DISOBEYED ME!"

"THAT'S A LIE AND YOU KNOW IT! THE U.S. GOVERNMENT PUSHED YOU TO FIGHT AGAINST ME! AND SPEAKING OF LIES, DID YOU REALLY THINK I'D NEVER FIND OUT ABOUT THOSE SLANDEROUS LIES YOU SPOKE AGAINST ME?! YOU'VE LABELED ME AS A PASSIONATE NAZI AND AN ANTI-SEMITE! YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO SAY THOSE THINGS ABOUT ME! THAT ISN'T WHO I AM AND YOU KNOW IT! AND THAT ISN'T WHO LUDWIG IS, EITHER!"

"OH, THAT'S FUCKING BULLSHIT!" Romano bellowed and he stepped up closely to his brother and he menacingly glared to him while he gestured his index finger to his face. "HOW CAN YOU CONTINUE TO STAND BY HIS SIDE WHEN THERE HAVE BEEN MILLIONS OF VICTIMS BEING LIBERATED IN DEATH CAMPS ALL THROUGHOUT EUROPE AS I SPEAK?!"

"HE DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT THEM! I SWEAR TO GOD HE DIDN'T KNOW AND NEITHER DID I! WE'D NEVER SUPPORT SOMETHING SO EVIL LIKE THAT! NEVER!"

"I CAN ONLY THINK ABOUT WHAT MY FATE WOULD HAVE BEEN IF THE WAR HAD TURNED OUT DIFFERENTLY – IF YOU HAD THINGS YOUR WAY, YOU'D HAVE SENT ME AWAY INTO ONE OF THOSE CAMPS, AS WELL AS MY PEOPLE FROM THE SOUTH!"

"I WOULD _NEVER _DO THAT TO YOU! I LOVE YOU, ROMA! I LOVE YOU – "

"AGAIN WITH THE FUCKING LIES! YOU _DON'T _LOVE ME! IF YOU HAD, YOU'D HAD GONE BACK TO SICILY WITH ME!"

"I-I _SHOULD _HAVE GONE BACK WITH YOU! YOU WERE RIGHT, ROMA! YOU WERE RIGHT! B-BUT I COULDN'T…I COULDN'T TURN MY BACK ON LUDWIG…YOU OF ALL PEOPLE SHOULD UNDERSTAND WHY I STAYED BEHIND…YOU WOULD HAVE DONE THE VERY SAME THING IN REGARDS TO _SPAIN_ – "

"SHUT UP!" Romano shrieked and he suddenly gripped his brother's neck and he forcefully threw him onto the filthy floor, relinquishing his men's hold onto Italy's arms. "Y-YOU SPEAK NONSENSE! I-I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE FUCKING TALKING ABOUT!" he nervously lied as the Mafioso gave him confusing glances. None of his men knew any details to his homosexuality and he meant to keep it that way. He grimaced to Italy who was now struggling to push himself up from the dirty floor and he suddenly clamped his right hand onto his twin's auburn hair.

"You are a _traitor _and you deserve a traitor's _death,"_ he coldly murmured and he began to forcefully drag Italy outside of his defunct puppet capitol. Italy yelped and screamed by the pain he was feeling from his hair being maliciously pulled. He began kicking his boot-laced feet about and his arms reached up to his brother's gripping hand. He tried to pry Romano's hold onto his hair, but his fingers remained tightly clenched in it, refusing to let go.

Meanwhile, the Mafioso looked to one another in complete astonishment. Some of the men ran outside to join their Godfather's side for the expected execution while the others remained inside, too stunned and haunted by their nations' quarrel with one another. The two men who had held onto Italy watched Romano dragging his brother onto the moist dirt and thrusting him into a semi-deep mud puddle. As they witnessed Italy now wallowing in the mud and sobbing profusely, they softly questioned the intense situation.

"He wouldn't…would he? To kill his own _brother_…he wouldn't!"

"What happens is between them. This is a _family dispute. _We shall take no part in it."

Romano stood over his twin and he pulled out a pistol from a pocket within his khaki shirt. He flipped the safety switch off and he firmly gripped it in his right hand. He stared wildly to his brother whom was now on his knees in the mud and he reached over and gripped onto Italy's jaw. Romano pulled his brother's jaw down, forcing his oral cavity to open and he slipped the barrel of his pistol into Italy's mouth.

Immediately, Italy desperately moaned and sobbed as the barrel of Romano's handgun was gagging him. He placed his trembling hands onto the weapon and he tried to pull it out of his mouth, but Romano only shoved it in deeper into his throat. Italy horrifically gawked to his twin with tears pouring down his muddied cheeks. His moaning intensified as he tried pleading to him not to pull the trigger.

Some of the Mafioso who sided with their Godfather shouted encouragement to assassinate his brother.

"GO ON! TAKE HIM OUT!"

"BLOW HIS FUCKING BRAINS OUT!"

"KILL HIM! HE'S A DISGRACE!"

The rest of the Mafioso had a very different reaction to this terrible situation. Many of the men looked away from the terrifying scene as they held back their sobs. The Italy Brothers were tremendously special to them and to all Italians in general. They were raised from childhood to admire these great immortal men who personified their honorable country. The Italy Brothers had always been their _heroes_. To see their heroes quarreling and the possibility of an assassination being performed by one brother onto another shook them to their cores. They could not help but think back to their lessons in Bible studies back when they were innocent little children and recalling the tragic stories of Cain and Abel and Moses and Pharaoh; their parallels hauntingly similar to what they were witnessing between the Italy Brothers.

One of the men who had previously held onto Italy transfixed his gaze upon Romano's index finger, awaiting for it to push onto the trigger and sending a blast into his brother's head. Panic-stricken and shaking with nerves, the man could not allow Romano to perform the assassination. He suddenly ran out of the house to be near Italy's side. When he came to him, he placed both of his hands onto his Boss's right arm.

"DON'T DO IT, GODFATHER! DON'T SHOOT HIM! PLEASE STOP THIS!" he emotionally begged as he knelt down to his superior.

Romano growled to the insubordinate man and he lifted his right leg up. "GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed and he callously kicked the Mafioso in the face. The man let out a yelp as he fell backwards into the mud; his face badly injured by Romano's muddied boot.

Then, a couple of men suddenly ran up to assist the downed Mafioso and they, too, pleaded to their Godfather to stop what he was doing. Going against Romano meant dangerous implications, but they could not stand idle and watch Italy being killed. When Romano refused to back down, the men went against him and they began trying to physically pull him away from Italy so that the barrel of his pistol would come out of his mouth.

"DON'T DO THIS, GODFATHER! STOP IT!"

"HAVE MERCY ON HIM! REMEMBER THE SACRAMENTS OF OUR FAITH! _FORGIVE HIM!"_

"LET GO OF THE GUN, DAMN IT! LET GO!"

Romano struggled to resist the mutiny that his men were conducting and he adamantly shoved them away with his body. His brown eyes were locked with his brother's during the altercation and he remained cold and heartless to Italy's frantic pleas for his life. Then, as the men grabbed and pushed Romano away from his brother, the nation pressed down the trigger and a loud bang echoed around their surroundings.

Everyone gasped when they heard the gunfire and they looked over to Italy. The nation was unharmed, but he now possessed a fresh gash running across his left cheek where the bullet had grazed itself. He had nearly cheated death by the hands of his own brother. Italy's bloodshot brown eyes were brimming with fresh tears and he frightfully gawked to Romano who remained unfazed by what he had attempted to do to him. He showed no remorse for his actions, nor showed any regret, except for the fact that he had failed in killing him.

Romano received numerous scolds by his men for his terrible actions. He ignored their words while his penetrating stare remained toward Italy. Then, one Mafioso's scolding caught the attention of the vengeful nation and it caused his blood pressure to increase.

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS! FOR GOD'S SAKE, HE'S YOUR _BROTHER!"_

Romano cruelly uttered a response to the distraught Mafioso, but his glare and full attention was toward Italy when he spoke. _"I have no brother."_ Then, Romano spat upon his brother's face and he murmured a Sicilian curse, causing tremendous grief to the Southern Italian men. They quickly formed their hands to gesture a malocchio to protect themselves from their Boss's malicious words. Finally, Romano turned his back to Italy and he walked away from the scene. The few followers who remained on Romano's side trailed behind him back to their jeeps.

The remaining Mafioso men looked to one another and questioned what to do with Italy. It was obvious that the nation was now a prisoner of war and he would have to be transported back to the U.S. Military. None of them wanted to handcuff Italy; he had already gone through so much strife. The men sympathetically stared to the downcast nation who remained on his on the ground, his knees slowly sinking into the mud.

Romano's warm spit slowly ran down Italy's bloodied and mud speckled face and his eyes were widened in complete shock. He was absolutely staggered by everything that had happened. His ancient heart was aching tremendously and his ever-endearing spirit was shattered not by the assassination attempt or by the bullet's grazing of his skin, but by being denied by his brother. Italy had dishonored Romano and for that, he was now being _shunned. _

Italy cupped his hands onto his face and he let out a blood-curdling scream. He began wailing and his body rocked back and forth. Then, as one Mafioso knelt down to his level with handcuffs in possession, Italy brought his hands down and he suddenly grabbed the Mafioso's arm, clenching it hard as he wept to him. "KILL ME! JUST KILL ME! I DON'T WANT TO LIVE ANYMORE! I'VE LOST MY BROTHER! I'VE LOST MY ROMA! KILL ME! JUST LET ME DIE!"

The Mafioso forcefully swallowed his tears as he witnessed the nation's passionate exclamations. He felt so sorry for him for what his boss had inflicted onto him. He did not have the words to give solace to Italy, nor would he participate in a second assassination attempt on him. Instead, he reluctantly pushed the nation's shakily arms away and he forced himself to place the handcuffs onto Italy's wrists.

* * *

Suddenly, Germany pounded his fisted left hand against the bark of the Oleander tree. The impact of his punch caused numerous blossoming pink Oleander flowers to gently rain down upon the two distraught nations. Germany was sickened by what Spain had shared with him in regards to the Italy Brothers' altercation. The despairing nation grabbed his empty beer bottles and he stood himself up. He turned around and angrily growled as he threw the bottles against the abandoned Italian villa. One by one, the glass bottles shattered against the building, leaving a permanent impact to his rage against this negative place. Germany ominously glared to the building, imagining the sheer horror that his beloved had to endure inside that retched house.

Spain was feeling guilty for telling Germany about the secretive details about Italy and Romano. He stood himself up and without hesitation, he walked over to Germany and he gently placed his hand upon the nation's broad shoulder. Germany immediately turned his gaze to Spain and he frowned to him. He jerked his shoulder away from the nation's touch and he stepped aside, averting any more contact from him.

"Ludwig…I'm sorry…I-I shouldn't…I shouldn't have said anything to you…" uttered Spain. He watched Germany walk further along the backyard, then pacing back to the Oleander tree. Germany did not know whether or not to scream or cry or to do both at once. All he could feel in the pit of his stomach was an intense _rage _toward Romano for inflicting pain upon Italy. But more importantly, his rage was also aimed toward _himself _for everything that had happened.

"All these years Feli has covered his grief and sorrow with a cheerful smile…and a warm laugh…all this time he's been wearing a _mask_…how could someone like him whose been burdened by such tragic memories find the strength to move forward? How is it possible that Feli can still see beauty in this terrible world?"

"Feliciano is stronger than we realize…his strength is different from ours…his strength comes from his heart. Despite the tribulations that he has had to endure, he's still capable of forgiving others…even his own brother."

Germany stepped up to the Oleander tree and he sat himself down at his spot again. Spain walked over and he resumed his spot as well, sitting closely to his distraught friend. He wanted to touch him in order to give comfort to Germany, but he understood deep down that the nation did not like physical contact. Spain sighed deeply and he rested his arms on his lap.

Germany looked despairingly ahead toward Lake Garda. _"It's all my fault,"_ he whispered.

Spain gasped by what his friend had said and he positioned himself to kneel next to him. "What are you talking about?!" he cried.

Germany looked to Spain, his blonde eyebrows still furrowing in a deep frown. "What do you think? I'm talking about the war…it was all my fault – "

"No, it wasn't! It wasn't your fault at all!" insisted Spain and he placed his hand upon Germany's shoulder.

"How can you say that?! Everything that happened was all because of me!"

"You're wrong, Ludwig. It was your _government _that was responsible for the war and for all the atrocities that came with it."

"But they represented _me! _I am just as responsible as they were in their crimes against humanity!"

"Listen to me, Ludwig. We're nations – and as much as I hate to admit this, we really don't have much say in how our governments are controlled. We are at the will of our leaders. We've always hoped that whomever rules over us will have good intentions for our citizens. But we both know how _rare_ it is for politicians to think this way."

"I-I should have done more to stop my government…I should have done more…" Germany solemnly repeated to himself and he looked down to his feet. "I let my people down…even to this day, I still can't face them. How could they ever be proud of me?"

Suddenly, Spain scooted himself over so he could face Germany head on. He knelt in front of him and he gently placed both of his hands upon the nation's shoulders. Germany flinched a bit by the physical contact, but nevertheless he accepted Spain's hands touching him. Spain looked to him in great seriousness expressed on his face. It intimidated the nation greatly; he was not used to seeing his friend without smiling.

"Ludwig, I want you to listen to me," ordered Spain. Germany simply nodded to his instruction and he kept his gaze to Spain's emerald eyes. Then, Spain continued to speak. "Your people have every right to be proud of you. German pride and German nationalism has _nothing _affiliated with _Nazism. _You weren't one of them, Ludwig, and neither was Gilbert. You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. You're not the only nation with a difficult past. None of us are perfect – hell, have you seen _my _history? Tell me one nation that has a clean slate. None of us do.

"I know that the past haunts you…I get haunted sometimes, too, by my own history. I know it's difficult for you to accept what I'm about to say, but you have to trust my word – it _wasn't_ your fault. Everything that happened for your people…and to Europe…and everything that happened with Feliciano _wasn't_ your fault."

Germany listened intently to what his friend had to say. He nodded again, accepting his sincere advice and he averted his stare away to look back to the Italian villa. His blue eyes were beginning to brim with fresh tears, but he did not want to allow himself to cry. He was too proud to express his sensitive side in front of somebody else. He struggled to swallow his tears and keeping his composure, due to the alcohol content inside him.

Spain noticed how emotional Germany was becoming and how he was fighting within himself not to break down. He tenderly reached over and he turned the nation's head over to face him again. Then, without asking for permission, Spain leaned forward and he began hugging Germany in his arms. Germany sat motionless against the Oleander tree trunk, unwilling to participate in the warm embrace.

As he was holding the distraught nation in his arms, Spain softly murmured more advice to him. "I-It's okay to cry, Ludwig. Don't hold it back. Just let it out. I'm here for you. Don't feel ashamed for wanting to cry. We men have feelings, too."

Germany looked across to Lake Garda and he let out a deep sigh. Spain could smell the strong scent of beer escaping from Germany's breath and he tenderly rubbed his hands up and down his back. Germany could not control his emotions anymore and his moistened eyes began shedding a couple of tears. Instead of wiping them away to hide the evidence to his despair, he allowed them to run down his face. Germany closed his eyes and he slowly nestled his face against Spain's neck. Finally, he began to quietly weep in his arms and his broad shoulders started shaking from nerves. Finally, Germany raised his arms and he enveloped them around Spain's torso, accepting him in his own embrace.

Spain's embrace tightened around his friend and he as well began to quietly weep. He was grateful that Germany was expressing himself and that he trusted him enough to do it in front of him. They remained in each other's arms for a while until Germany's crying soon subsided. They silently held one another for a long time until finally Germany broke the silence between them. "Do you…do you remember when we got them back together?" he asked, referring to the Italy Brothers.

"I do," answered Spain and a tiny smile appeared on his face, "How could I ever forget that? You and I worked so hard to get those two to love each other again. It took us so many years."

Germany slowly pulled away from Spain's embrace so he could look at the nation's face. "I don't know how we did it. It was so difficult. We made a great team, didn't we?"

"We sure did. We didn't give up."

"All I could think about was Gilbert when we were trying to get Feli and Romano to talk again. When I was separated from him, it really broke my heart. I knew exactly how Feli must have felt not having his brother in his life…and I wanted them together again because they had the opportunity to do so…unlike Gilbert and myself…"

Spain slowly nodded in agreement. "That was a very difficult situation. I missed Gilbert so much after the war and so did Francis."

"Romano didn't make things easy for us. He refused to participate in anything we had arranged for them to do, like attending Mass together, or having lunch at a restaurant. They couldn't even have a decent conversation without it turning into a heated one-sided debate," jeered Germany with a tinge of attitude to his voice.

"I-I know. Mi Tomate is _very_ stubborn," concurred Spain and he let out a soft chuckle. "He pretended for years to not give a damn about his brother anymore, but I knew otherwise that it wasn't true. Do you know how I figured it out?" Germany shook his head. Spain's lips formed a smirk and his eyes brightened up. "I knew that Lovi still loved his brother because he _never _removed his photographs from our Catholic shrine. You'd think he would have taken them down just to be spiteful, but he never did."

Germany's thin lips formed a small smile. "You know, Feli never removed Romano's photographs from his shrine, either. But he had stopped praying at the shrine after the war. He wasn't interactive with it for many years until they finally made up. I used to hate waking up early in the morning to the smell of incense and candle wax…and to listen to him singing in Latin. But I really missed those things when he stopped doing it. Especially his singing…he has a beautiful voice…he sings that one prayer every single morning…what's it called again?"

Spain's smirk turned into a radiant grin and he answered the nation's question. "He's singing _Make Me a Channel of Your Peace. _It's a prayer that was written by St. Francis of Assisi. He's the Patron Saint of animals and the environment! Lovi sings the prayer every morning, too. Belgium taught him and Feli the song when they were little children and we'd sing it together as a family.

"Lovi stopped singing the prayer, too, right after the war. It upset me because I knew how much he loved singing it. There was so much unwanted sadness inside our home…and Lovi was partly to blame because he wouldn't acknowledge his brother. And when he did, he was cruel to him…and he treated him with great disrespect. Every time you and I arranged an afternoon for them to spend time together, Lovi would be terrible about it. I finally had enough of it all and I put him in his place. I hated scolding him, but it was something that had to be done."

"Well, whatever you said to him worked because before I knew it, Feli and I were heading to your property for a visitation. If I recall correctly, it was on a _Sunday. _How ironic, isn't it? Considering the circumstances we're in now."

"You're right! I think it was on a Sunday! That's when their little tradition began in seeing each other once a week. I wonder if their reunion would have been any more profound if it had happened on any other day?"

* * *

**Spring 1953**

Germany parked his Mercedes in Spain's driveway and turned off the ignition. He looked to Italy whose fair face was expressing anxiety and fear for what may occur inside the estate. "Don't be nervous," he reassured his beloved, "Romano _wants _to see you this time. We came here because of him."

"W-What if something goes wrong?" Italy solemnly asked, his lovely brown eyes already wetting up with tears.

Germany reached over and he placed his hand upon Italy's right knee. He stared intently into his partner's eyes and he spoke. "At this point, the only thing that can go wrong now is if you pass up this opportunity to see him."

Italy slowly nodded his head in agreement and his nose sniffled. "Y-You're right," he said and he placed his own hand upon Germany's.

"Go on, Feli. Go see your brother. He's waiting for you."

Italy nodded again and he brought his hand back to his side. He took a deep breath and he opened the passenger-side door and stepped out of the vehicle. As he closed the door shut, his ancient heart began palpitating at the sight of the Spanish villa. He was still wondering whether or not it was a mistake to be here. Reluctantly, he walked around the Mercedes and he made a slow procession up to the front door. As he was walking further up to the estate, he abruptly stopped in place when he noticed the front door opening.

Italy's eyes widened up when he saw Romano slowly stepping out of the house, his stare transfixed to his direction. Standing behind him was Spain who gave Italy a kind smile. Then, he remained standing at the steps while Romano proceeded to walk down them and heading up to his twin's direction. Finally, Romano was standing right across from Italy. Not a single word was uttered between them. They were standing so close to each other, and yet they still seemed so distant.

Germany stepped out of the vehicle and remained standing beside the opened passenger-side door. He did not know what to expect at this point, but he was hoping that there would not be a physical altercation between the Italy Brothers. He looked to Spain who gave him a quick wave and he acknowledged him with a single nod.

Italy and Romano looked to one another. Romano's frown was intimidating to Italy and he felt compelled to turn around and go back into the car. But instead, he remained standing in place, waiting for the ice between them to break. Finally, after a minute of waiting, one of them broke their silence. That someone was Romano, and he said a single word that Italy had not heard him say in almost ten years.

_"V-Veneziano…" _

Immediately, Italy let out a gasp after hearing his name uttered by his estranged brother. He cupped his hand over his mouth and he started to gently weep. Romano's frown was then lifted by the sight of his twin crying and he, too, was feeling compelled to weep. He tried to maintain his composure, but he found it difficult t do so. He spoke to his brother again, his speaking voice becoming emotional.

_ "Veneziano…mi fra…mi fratello…"_ Romano softly murmured again and he cleared his throat. He hurt his heart to see Italy weeping in front of him; it triggered back the horrible memories of their altercation back in Saló. He felt so ashamed of himself for his actions against him and he felt compelled for the first time to apologize for what he had done. Romano cast his pride aside and he knelt down on his knees. He timidly reached over and clasped Italy's hand and he squeezed it tightly.

"I-I'm…I'm so sorry…I'm sorry, Veneziano…for everything!" Romano cried and he pressed his trembling lips upon Italy's hand. As he gave the hand a kiss, his emotions overwhelmed him and Romano found himself pressing his face against Italy's hand and he began to weep profusely for his transgressions.

Italy was taken aback by his brother's behaviour. He had no expected any of this to happen. He brought his other hand away from his mouth and he reached over to his brother. He resisted at first, but he finally placed his hand upon Romano's head and he began stroking his dark tresses. This caused Romano's weeping to transform into a mournful cry and Italy decided to kneel down to his level. When he did so, his crying increased as he brought his stroking hand to touch his brother's wet face.

"I-I'm sorry, too! I-I'm so sorry!" he yelped as he petted Romano's right cheek.

"Y-You have no reason to a-apologize! I was terrible to you! Everything is all my fault! What I've done to you…God! How could I have done those things to you?! I-I'm not worthy to receive your love! I-I'm not worthy to have you!" Romano emotionally responded and he struggled to stand himself up again, but Italy prevented him from doing this by suddenly enveloping him in his warm embrace. Romano pressed his face against his brother's chest and he passionately sobbed in his arms.

"VENEZIANO! OH, VENEZIANO!" he wailed against his chest.

"R-Roma! Oh, Roma…my dear brother…you are indeed worthy to receive my love! We need each other! I can't live without you! Too long have we've been apart!" Italy choked and he nuzzled his face against Romano's hair. "Ti voglio bene! (I love you!) Ti voglio bene, Roma!"

Suddenly, Romano looked up to Italy with tears welling in his bloodshot brown eyes. "I've_ never _stopped loving you! I never have! I-I still have your photos on my shine!"

"I-I still have your photos on my shrine, too!" Italy concurred and they both let out a gentle chuckle. Their embrace for each other tightened and Romano nestled his face against his brother's neck.

"Will you ever find it in your heart…to _forgive me?"_ he asked.

"I-I've already done so many years ago…I've already forgiven you, Roma…I've just been waiting for this day to come so I could finally tell you!" Italy tenderly admitted and he brought Romano's face away from himself so he could look to him. "Please forgive me! Please forgive me for what I've done to you!" he gasped.

Romano nodded his head and his trembling lips formed a small smile. "I-I do! I do forgive you… ti voglio bene," he choked and he leaned in and gave his brother a gentle kiss upon his lips. Italy passionately returned the gesture by kissing Romano's lips and face. They continued to hold one another and professing their brotherly love to each other while remaining on the ground.

Spain and Germany remained where they stood, observing the overwhelming scene with tears in their eyes. Neither one wanted to interrupt the Italy Brothers' reunion. They allowed them to continue holding one another while kneeling on the ground until they were ready to go inside the house. Germany had decided to keep his distance from the reunion, fearing that his presence would instigate a fight between himself and Romano.

Italy would end up spending the night at Spain's estate, staying inside one of the numerous guest rooms. Romano decided to spend the night inside Italy's room for old time's sake. Spain would secretly check up on them late at night to see that they were all right. He was taken aback each time he went to see them and witnessing the Italy Brothers sleeping together in each other's embrace, just like how they would do so when they were little children.

By the early morning, Spain would be awakened by the presence of a strong, yet pleasant odor. His nose sniffled the air and he suddenly sat up in bed when he realized that he smelled rose-scented _incense. _Spain scurried out of the tangled bed sheets and he made a quick dash downstairs as to where their religious shrine was located. When he got to the shrine, he stopped in place and he silently witnessed the Italy Brothers singing in Latin their morning prayers inside the room in perfect harmony.

* * *

**.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°**

Fac mihi viam pacis tuae

(Make me a channel of Your peace)

Ubi est odium, amorem ferre.

(Where there is hatred, let me bring Your love)

Ubi est iniuria, veniam Domine

(Where there is injury, Your Pardon, Lord)

Ubi dubium ibi verum in te.

(And where there's doubt, true faith in You.)

**.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°**

Fac mihi viam pacis tuae

(Make me a channel of Your peace)

Est in nobis ignoscatur, ignoscere

(It is in pardoning that we are pardoned)

Omnes accepimus dare

(In giving to all men that we receive)

Et nati sumus moriendo vitam aeternam.

(And in dying that we're born to eternal life)

**.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°**

O Domine da mihi nunquam quaerere

(Oh, Master, grant that I may never seek)

Tantum consolari ut consolare

(So much to be consoled as to console)

Intellectu ad intelligendum

(To be understood as to understand)

Amare quod amandum est anima mea.

(To be loved as to love with all my soul.)

**.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°**

Fac mihi viam pacis tuae

(Make me a channel of Your peace)

Ubi non est desperandum vitae spem educam

(Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope)

Ubi tenebris lux solis

(Where there is darkness, only light)

Et ubi est tristitia, gaudium sempiternum

(And where there's sadness, ever joy.)

**.。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・° .。.:*・°**

After their morning prayer was sung, Italy and Romano hugged each other as they stared lovingly to the religious shrine. It would be then that Spain would step inside the shrine and announcing his presence by clearing his throat. The Italy Brothers looked over their shoulders and they smiled to him. Spain slowly walked up to them with his arms extended. When he got to them, he stood in the center and he wrapped his arms around both Italy and Romano, giving them a tender bear hug. Italy nestled his face against Spain's side while Romano gave a gentle kiss upon his beloved's face. They would remain in each other's embrace, giving thanks to God that were now family once more.

* * *

Germany and Spain sat side by side again underneath the Oleander tree, reminiscing over the memories of the Italy Brothers' reunion. It would be then that Germany wondered how long they had both been sidetracked at this ominous location. "Hey…what time is it?" he questioned.

Spain pulled out Germany's iPhone to check the time. He also decided to check the program Siri to see whether or not Italy has turned on his phone. "Wow! It's almost three o'clock – and Feli's phone is still turned off!" he pouted.

_"Still?" _asked Germany, arching an eyebrow to the nation.

Spain smiled sheepishly to his friend and he nodded. "Uh, yeah…he turned off his cellphone when were coming here. He and Lovi were passing by a hospital and suddenly I wasn't able to track them anymore."

"That's strange…do you suppose they're at the hospital?"

"I don't know…perhaps they are. But who are they visiting?"

Germany stood himself up and he outstretched his arms to wake up his muscles. "Only God knows. What a wasted day this has been. We haven't accomplished anything in pursing them. There's no point in going any further if we don't know where they're at. We might as well head back to my house."

"I suppose you're right," concurred Spain and he also stood himself up. He looked back to the abandoned Italian villa and he became downcast. "We shouldn't have come here. This is an awful place," he said.

"I know…I apologize for taking us here. Thank you for tolerating my decision," Germany uttered and he let out a deep sigh.

"You're welcome," answered Spain and he turned his gaze back to the nation.

"Ant…do you think he'll ever forgive me?" Germany quietly uttered as he looked to his friend.

"Who? Do you mean Romano?" Spain asked and the nation nodded his head. Spain expressed a kind smile to him and he responded. "I've always believed he will. He'll forgive you when the right opportunity comes – "

"When is that day going to come? We've been feuding for over seventy years, if not, longer than that! I'm sick of it!" Germany bitterly interrupted.

Spain reached over and held onto Germany's hand in his attempt to calm his friend down. "He _will _forgive you someday. At this point in time, he _has _to. It isn't good for either one of you to remain enemies. Give him time, Ludwig…"

Germany nodded to what Spain had said to him and he dropped the subject. He looked across to Lake Garda once last time, then gestured his head, pointing to where his vehicle was parked. "C'mon, lets get out of here," he said.

Spain picked up the cooler off the ground. He followed Germany with his hand remaining clasped in his friend's, as they turned their back to the abandoned puppet state of Saló.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

**The Next Week – August 12****th**

The Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen sped down the highway, driving down the Italian coastline. Germany was focusing intently on the road while Spain was playing a game on his own smartphone. Their usual Mexican music was playing loudly through the vehicle's speakers, which caught the attention of many drivers on the road. Their music especially caught the attention of a tour bus being occupied by young Latino students visiting Italy and they passionately screamed and hollered to the recognizable music. Spain excitedly waved to the students, whereas Germany tried ignoring their obnoxious cheering by staring straight ahead to the road.

When the tour bus veered to the far end of the road to exit the highway, Spain unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up inside the vehicle, gleefully waving goodbye to the students. "¡ADIOS! ¡BIENVENIDO A EUROPA!" (WELCOME TO EUROPE!)

"SIT DOWN, ANT! VERDAMNT! DO YOU WANT ME TO GET PULLED OVER BY THE POLICE?!" Germany furiously barked to his friend.

Spain arched an eyebrow to the short-tempered nation and he sat himself down again. "Killjoy," he mumbled.

"Oh, right – I'm the bad guy! As always!"

"I was doing nothing wrong! All I did was stand up and waved to those people!"

"You _stood up!_ You're breaking the law! Don't ever do that again!" Germany angrily insisted. He then briefly glared to his left side and noticed that Spain was not wearing his seatbelt. "Buckle up!" he exclaimed.

Spain aggressively tugged his seatbelt across himself and locked it. He stubbornly folded his arms and refused to make any eye contact with the disgruntled nation. Germany's temper soon subsided and he released a deep sigh. "Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you, all right?" he said.

"Hmmph!" Spain bitterly expressed and he cocked his head away from Germany's direction, snubbing his sincere words to him.

Germany rolled his eyes and he scoffed to the nation. "Oh, c'mon now! I said I was sorry!"

"Hmmph!"

Germany gripped his hands tightly onto the vintage steering wheel. He was becoming fed up by Spain's childish behavior to him. "Fine! Be that way! But you could at least check on my phone to see where our destination is going to be! Can't you do that?"

Spain slowly turned his gaze to Germany and he immaturely glared to him. "Perhaps I could. What's it to you?" he snubbed.

Suddenly, Germany's blood pressure increased and his grip onto the steering wheel tightened. He tried to calm himself down by forcing himself to breathe deeply. Finally, when his palpitations subsided, he calmly yet strictly gave another order to the nation. "Just do what I say! Where are we heading? Go on, check the phone!"

Spain immaturely mimicked Germany, repeating softly what had been said to him with disgust. He picked up the nation's smartphone and checked where the Italy Brothers' final location was. When his eyes read the GPS mapped location, he let out a gasp and he cupped his hand over his gaping mouth. Germany briefly looked to Spain's side and he impatiently spoke to him. "Well?! Where are we going?!"

Spain brought his hand away from his mouth and he looked over to Germany. "We're heading to a seaside town called Scilla…located in the region of Calabria," he nervously answered.

"All right then, so which exit do I get off at?"

"It'll be a while until we get there – "

"When? Could you be more specific?"

Spain forcefully gulped and he answered his friend. "Ludwig…they're in _Southern Italy."_

Germany physically shivered when he was informed where they were heading. "How…how far _south _are we going?" he timidly asked.

Spain looked to the smartphone and he carefully studied the GPS map. "All the way down to the 'big toe' of the boot. Scilla is right across from the island of Sicily," he answered.

"I-I see," Germany uttered. There was a brief silence between the two men. Then, Germany suddenly slammed his foot onto the accelerator and he manically drove the military vehicle across the lanes without giving warning to the other drivers around them. He made an unexpected and illegal U-Turn and he desperately drove the vehicle up the opposite direction. His dangerous actions were acknowledged by the drivers with monotonous honking of their car horns and terrible curse words screamed to him in their native language.

"AHHHH!" Spain frightfully shrieked during the unexpected U-Turn. When he realized what the nation had done, he angrily screamed to him in astonishment. "HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!"

Germany nervously glanced to the nation. "I…I forgot something back home…we need to go back!" he stammered.

"BULLSHIT!" Spain screamed and he pointed his right index finger to him. "YOU'RE _AFRAID_ TO GO TO SOUTH ITALY! YOU'RE AFRAID OF MY LOVI'S HALF OF THE COUNTRY!"

"ALL RIGHT! I ADMIT IT! I _AM _AFRAID! BUT I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO BE AFRAID! REMEMBER WHAT FRANKIE WARNED US ABOUT COMING DOWN SOUTH?! I'M NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES! WE'RE GOING BACK TO MY PLACE!"

"NO! TURN THE CAR AROUND, MAN!"

"NEIN!"

"LUDWIG! I SAID TURN IT AROUND!" Spain furiously bellowed and he slammed his fisted hand against the dashboard. "WE MISSED OUT ON LAST WEEK! I'M NOT SKIPPING ON TODAY! WE NEED TO PURSUE THEM!"

"Ant…I can't…I just _can't. _It's too risky! What if something bad happens to us?_" _Germany dejectedly said.

"Nothing is going to happen to us! We haven't run into any trouble in the past! What makes today any different? Because we're heading south?"

"I specifically remember Frankie's words – if we stood out just in the _slightest_ in public, we'll catch the attention of the police. The police in South Italy are corrupt! Remember? They're associated with the mob! I-I can't go through with our plans today, Ant. I can't!"

"Oh! And what you just did on the highway isn't going to catch anyone's attention?! I'm sure that everyone is on their cellphones reporting us to the highway patrol as we speak!"

"Don't say that! Gott Verdamnt!"

Spain could see the fear written all over Germany's face. He truly was afraid to travel down to Southern Italy. Spain was taken aback by all of this; he had always assumed that Germany was fearless in anything he did. Now to witness him in what seemed to be his most vulnerable state made his heart feel heavy inside his chest. "Hey, pull over for a minute," he said.

"What?!" Germany gasped, looking over to his friend.

"I said pull over! Right over there at that rest stop!" Spain said again, pointing to a wide dirt patch designated for emergency parking. Germany reluctantly complied and he veered the vehicle over to the area. He then parked, leaving the engine running so that the air conditioning could continue its efforts in keeping them cool. Finally, he looked over to Spain, waiting on what he needed to say to him.

Spain reached over and he placed his right hand onto Germany's left shoulder. "Look, man…you and I are a team and we've always had each other's backs. Whatever goes down today, we'll get through it together. But I know that nothing bad is going to happen to us."

Germany looked at Spain's compassionate face and he sighed. "I-I want to believe you...in regards to us not finding any trouble. But I just have this gnawing feeling in my gut, like I'm sensing a premonition of things to come. I can't bear to draw too much attention to us. Can you imagine us driving into Southern Italy in a vehicle like _this?_ Gretchen alone will have prying eyes glued to us!"

Spain became slightly annoyed by Germany's statement and he frowned to him. "I _told _you it was stupid to continue riding this car!" he exclaimed.

"And I've explained to you countless times as to why we need to continue using Gretchen! The petrol tank is huge and I don't have to make so many stops to the refill it!"

"So what are we going to do?" Spain blurted, throwing his arms up in frustration. "Are we to avoid South Italy all together out of an irrational fear of what _may _happen to us? We might as well give up on our mission! Is this what you want to do?"

"Of course not!" Germany insisted, turning his gaze away from Spain. "I don't want to retreat!"

"Then could you_ please_ turn Gretchen around so we can head down to the right direction?! We're wasting precious time!"

Germany gripped the gear stick and changed gears, but he was hesitant to lift his foot off the brake pedal. He was still nervous about everything. Spain's frown slowly went away and he gently placed his hand onto his friend's shoulder again. "Everything's going to be all right. Don't worry," he kindly reassured.

Germany nodded to him in silence and he lifted his foot off the brake pedal. Turning on his signal, he looked back on traffic and waited to veer back onto the highway. When he was able to do this, he drove forward until he came to a point where he could actually make a legal U-Turn. This time, he maneuvered the vehicle safely as he changed directions. Finally, the nations were back on the road that would be leading them to their final destination.

* * *

The nations arrived to the bustling seaside town of Scilla. They were both stricken by the town's beauty, from its majestic towering mountainsides, the vibrant turquoise shade of the Mediterranean Sea and the numerous ancient buildings crowded closely together along the 'big toe' of the shoreline. They were also taken aback by how swamped the town had become with visiting tourists. Germany cautiously drove his military vehicle down the main road, but with the tourists randomly jaywalking in front of him, it made things complicated to proceed further into town.

"Damn tourists!" he sneered as he waited for a large herd of them to pass by. He then looked up to the sky and he let out a deep growl. "Damn sun! Why does it seem brighter than usual?" he complained as he pushed back his sliding sunglasses up the brim of his nose.

Spain smiled to his friend and he chuckled. "My Lovi isn't called 'Il Mezzogiorno' (The Midday) for nothing! It's always sunny and bright in the southern half of Italy!" he answered. He then lovingly sighed as he admired the magnificent landscape. "Ah! This place is paradise!"

"Yeah, well, I wish that paradise had wider roads," Germany anxiously said as he struggled to make a left turn at an intersection. The Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen was clearly too large for the old, underdeveloped roadways. The drivers sitting inside their tiny Fiat automobiles honked their horns and screamed profanities at Germany for not being able to maneuver his vehicle too well.

"HURRY THE FUCK UP, ASSHOLE!"

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?! WE'RE BEING INVADED AGAIN?! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

"MOVE IT OR LOSE IT, YOU BASTARD!"

Germany grimaced from overhearing the heckling against him as he was finally able to turn his vehicle. "Now I _know_ we're in Romano's side of Italy! Scheiße!" (Shit!) he sarcastically uttered. He then tried to find anywhere to park, but his attempts seemed futile. "Can you check to see if there's any public parking lots around here?" he asked.

"Uh, sure," Spain answered and he reached into his pant pocket to retrieve his smartphone. He went on the Internet and made a quick search. "Uh, looks like there isn't anything like that around here," he said.

"Great. Just great. Where the hell are we going to park?! I can't parallel park because my vehicle will block half of the road!"

Spain slipped his smartphone back into his pant pocket. "I _told_ you we should have switched cars – "

"AS I'VE SAID BEFORE!" Germany furiously yelled, interrupting Spain at mid-sentence. "DO I NEED TO EXPLAIN TO YOU AGAIN ABOUT THE PETROL TANK?!"

"No, you don't! But this is pretty ridiculous! Your car is too big for these roads!"

"That isn't my fault! These roads should have been widened when they were created!"

"There wasn't transportation as large as yours back in the _Roman Empire!_ That's how old these roads are!"

"Well…uh…just keep your eyes peeled for any potential parking spaces, all right?!" Germany bitterly cried. Spain sighed and he looked around their surroundings to look for an open space that could accommodate the military vehicle's size. After searching for what seemed to be forever, Spain noticed an area that had potential in his eyes.

"Hey! Park over there!" he exclaimed, pointing to the area.

Germany looked to his right and noticed a dead end alleyway. "I can't park _there! _It would be illegal for me to do that!" he cried.

"Oh, c'mon, man! This is your only opportunity to park! Nobody's going to notice!"

"And how do you expect me to do this?"

"Go in reverse and back in! How else would you do it?" Spain suggested in a light arrogant tone.

Germany thought over everything and he came to the conclusion that he had no other choice but to park there. "Fine. I'll do it. Lets hope I can pull this off," he said.

Spain looked over his shoulder to see the traffic behind them. "There aren't many cars behind us right now. Do it now!"

Germany nodded and he suddenly stopped the car. Then, he changed gears into reverse and slowly backed into the alleyway. It was a _very_ tight squeeze for the vehicle, but it miraculously succeeded in parking within the alley. Finally, Germany turned off the engine and slipped the keys into a pocket to his beige shorts. "There! We did it! Good thinking, Ant," he complimented.

Spain grinned to his friend as he gripped the handle to the passenger door. "See? I told you this would work – " Spain suddenly stopped talking when he realized that he was unable to open the vehicle's door. "Shit! We're _really _squeezed in!" he exclaimed.

Germany tried opening his door as well, but he was unable to do so. He growled deeply as he stood himself up on the seat cushion and he began climbing over the windshield. "Good thing this is a convertible, otherwise we'd really be trapped!" he cried as he slid himself off the front of his vehicle.

Spain copied Germany's tactic of getting out of the vehicle and he was finally able to get out. Then, the two nations brushed themselves off and they looked back to Gretchen. "Do you think she'll be okay here?" questioned Germany.

Spain smiled to him and he nudged him with his left shoulder. "Of course she is! Don't worry so much!" he kindly insisted. He then reached into his pocket to his red shorts and pulled out Germany's smartphone. He went to the Siri GPS map and studied where they needed to go to track down the Italy Brothers. When the map finally loaded, Spain let out a gasp. "Wow! They're _really _close by to us!" he cried.

Germany looked at the smartphone's screen and a tinge of panic invaded him internally. "They're _too _close to us! What if we run into them?"

"We just have to be discreet, that's all! Thank God it's summertime; we can really blend in with the tourists!" Spain said as he maneuvered the map with his index finger. "Hey! What's this supposed to be here? It's covering most of the area," he asked, tapping the blue pixelated majority of the screen. A red glowing dot representing the Italy Brothers' presence was adjacent to the blue area.

Germany studied the blue area carefully and frowned. "It looks like the ocean," he concluded. He looked over to Spain and they in unison exited the narrow alleyway. The moment they stepped out, a powerful gush of wind current hit their bodies. They both inhaled the cool breeze and could taste the saltiness of its presence. They looked to their right and they realized that they were only feet away from a public beach. Both nations joined a crowd of tourists heading to the edge of the cliff side. As they got to it, they gripped the protective railing and they admired the breathtaking view of the Mediterranean Sea.

A tour guide speaking English gestured his right arm outward to the beach that was below them. "Right here is one of our public beaches! People come here to go fishing and scuba diving, too! If you'd like to spend the day sunbathing and whatnot down there, you're welcome to do so. But there's a catch," he paused and expressed an amusing grin to the foreign tourists, "this is a _nude beach!" _

Suddenly, a herd of American tourists pushed the foreign tourists aside and voyeuristically looked down to the beach in great astonishment. The rest of the tourists of European descent could care less about nude sunbathers and did not bother to look down. The tour guide was amused by the Americans' looking at the nude beach; this to him must have been a great thrill for them to see, considering how taboo it is to sunbathe in their own country. "You're welcome to go there! The beach is free to all! But keep in mind that children aren't permitted to enter. Adults only!" he said.

Spain glanced down to the nude beach and smiled. "I haven't done this in a while. This is great sun to sunbathe in, too! Do you sunbathe, Ludwig?"

Germany averted his eyes down to his feet and he cleared his throat. "I-I do, but only in the comforts of my home. I do it in the backyard," he shyly stated.

_"Really?" _Spain cried as he examined Germany's pale complexion. "I find this hard to believe! You're pale as a ghost! You're _haunting_ this beach!" he teased and he started to laugh.

Germany grumbled under his breath and his cheeks flared beet red from embarrassment. "I-I suppose I don't do it so often…" he trailed off and he let out a sigh.

"No worries!" Spain exclaimed and he poked Germany's muscular bicep with his index finger. "You should join me, Lovi and Francis someday and we can sunbathe together! Gilbert doesn't do it, of course, for obvious reasons. He gets burnt to a crisp."

Germany flinched and he quickly shook his head. "Thanks, but I'll have to decline. I-I don't want to be naked in front of…other people," he confessed, still keeping his eyes downcast to his feet.

Spain laughed even harder to his friend. "I can't believe you! You're just as reserved as an American! What's the big deal?" he questioned. He then reached over and grabbed Germany by his shoulders. He began to forcefully move Germany, trying to get him to look down to the beach below them.

"STOP IT! I DON'T WANT TO LOOK!" Germany angrily yelled.

"Will you stop being uptight?! There's nothing to it! Look! Right down there!" Spain ordered as he physically forced Germany to stare down at the beach. "See?! Nobody cares! Everyone's just minding their own business and taking it easy! There's no public orgy going on! It's just regular sunbathing – "

_"Mein Gott!" _Germany dramatically hissed, his eyes focusing on something from afar.

"What?! What is it?!" asked Spain.

Germany raised his right arm up and he pointed outward to the shore. "They're…over...they're over there!" he stammered.

"Who's over there?!"

"Who _else?!" _

Spain immediately turned around and looked to where Germany was pointing. He gasped when he realized who exactly he was referring to – the Italy Brothers were at the shore _sunbathing _together. "¡DIOS MIO!" Spain dramatically cried and he slipped off his sunglasses to catch a better glimpse of them. He watched them lying side by side on their striped beach blankets, basking in the sunlight; their oiled skin shimmering like diamonds from the sunshine spotlighting down to them. Suddenly, Italy sat himself up and he leaned to his brother, talking to him while he touched his sun kissed, hairless chest.

A trickle of blood seeped out of Spain's nose. "Oh, God! This is so _hot!" _he huskily exclaimed and he reached down to touch his bulge that was beginning to _fill up._ Germany became horrified by what Spain was about to do and he violently shoved him. _"Don't even think about it!" _he threatened.

Spain nervously laughed and he then glanced down to Germany, noticing his personal area pitching a tent. He arched an eyebrow to him and he smirked. _"Hypocrite!" _he cunningly said. Germany blushed profusely and he turned his back to Spain and to the beach. He had never felt so humiliated in his whole life.

Meanwhile, down at the beach, the Italy Brothers were briefly conversing with one another. They had been sunbathing together for almost an hour. Italy was hoping to become as tanned as his brother, but it seemed as if his ivory skin was going to remain as it was. "Ve~! You're so lucky, Roma! I wish I could tan like you!" he envied while he touched his brother's bare chest.

"Yeah, well, I try maintaining this by tanning every other day. Don't you sunbathe where you live?" asked Romano.

Italy shrugged his shoulders. "Sometimes I do, but the sunlight isn't as bright up there like it is down here."

Romano huffed and he shifted his body around to give his posterior side a chance to tan some more. "It's grey, cold and gloomy up there. What a great reflection of Germany's personality!" he sarcastically said and let out a deep chuckle.

"That's not true! You shush!" Italy whined and he suddenly slapped Romano's plump butt.

"GAH!" Romano gasped and he angrily turned around to look at his brother. "WHAT THE FUCK, MAN! WHY'D YOU DO THAT?!"

"Eh-heh! I'm sorry! It just happened," Italy murmured, bringing his hands to himself.

"DON'T BE SLAPPING MY FUCKING ASS IN PUBLIC! YOU'RE GOING TO DRAW ATTENTION TO US!" Romano furiously yelled. Then, as if on cue, he overheard the lighthearted giggles of two brunette Italian women who were sitting nearby. Romano timidly looked over his shoulder to see them and he blushed profusely when they waved over to him. Romano nervously grinned to the women and he quickly turned his gaze to his brother. "Y-You see?! They're laughing at me!" he cried.

"Aww! They probably thought what I did to you was cute!" Italy happily exclaimed and he gave a friendly wave to the women. "Ciao, ladies!" he said to them.

The two women glanced to one another and they briefly cupped their smiles while they giggled profusely. Then, they turned their attention to the nations and revealed their grins to them. "Ciao, _Nord Italia!"_ one woman lovingly uttered.

"Ciao, _Sud Italia!_ My, you're living up to your name today, eh _Il Mezzogiorno? _Today's a scorcher!" the other woman uttered in a silky, attractive tone.

Romano and Italy quickly glanced to one another and then to the women. They both exhibit vibrant grins and their cheeks were blushing very deeply. Romano quickly collected himself and his flushed skin subsided. "I hope it isn't too overbearing upon your delicate flesh, my dear," he seductively uttered.

"On the contrary," the woman replied, leaning forward upon her beach towel, squishing her large breasts together to entice the nations, "I find it to be rather _stimulating...don't you?"_

The Italy Brothers' smiles increased. Romano kept his composure and remained cool while he flirted with the young woman. His lovely brown eyes cast their stare upon the woman's full chest then up to her face. "Absolutely. _And then some,"_ he answered, catching the woman and even his brother off guard.

The woman gave a wink to Romano and a sly smile curled on her face. Her friend, however, was becoming rather embarrassed by her friend's behaviour and she leaned in closely from behind and whispered in her ear. _"Quit flirting with him!" _she begged.

_ "Why?" _the second woman harshly asked.

_"Because it's awkward! Flirting with Sud Italia and Nord Italia seems so…sacrilegious! It's like flirting with a Saint or even a father-figure!"_

_ "They don't seem to mind! Sud Italia is rather liking the attention!"_

_ "C'mon, lets leave them be! They're on holiday! Lets get some gelato, okay? Please?"_

The second woman sighed and she reluctantly obliged to her friend's demands. _"Oh, fine. Whatever," _she cursed. Then she turned her attention back to the Italy Brothers and she stood up. "We're going to get some gelato! Would you like for us to get you some?"

Italy and Romano looked to one another, wondering if either one wanted to take up on their offer. Neither one had an appetite, surprisingly. They looked back to the women standing nearby. "No, but thanks for the offer!" exclaimed Italy.

The first woman grinned to Italy and she shyly looked away. "Okay then! We'll be back!" she said and she tugged her friend's arm. The second woman sighed and she turned around to follow her friend. They did not go far, however, when Romano suddenly asked a question to them.

"What are your names, ladies?"

The second woman immediately turned around and she excitedly grinned to Romano. "My name's Gina!" she happily answered.

The first girl turned around and she also gave her name to them. "I'm Sofia!" she bashfully murmured.

Romano smiled to the young women. "It's very nice to meet you both! We'll be looking forward to your return," he kindly said. Both Gina and Sofia leaned in closely and giggled amongst themselves. Finally, they waved to their nations and headed off together over to the gelato stand.

Italy playfully shoved his brother and he excitedly laughed to him. "I can't believe you, fratello! You're being so bold with them!" he exclaimed.

Romano turned himself around so he could face his brother. "You should talk, you bastard! You're a bigger flirt than me!" he teased and he shoved him back in return.

"You're right about that! I can't help myself! I _love _being around women! Ve~!"

"So do I. They're so _wonderful."_

"Hey, Roma? Does Antonio ever get jealous whenever you're talking to women?"

"I don't assume he does," Romano paused and thought to himself about this situation. "I can't recall ever having him criticizing me. Why do you ask?"

"Eh, I was just curious. Ludwig doesn't like it when I flirt with women. It intimidates him. So I try not to do it so often when we're together."

Romano rolled his eyes and he became annoyed by this revelation. "What an insecure asshole! What we do isn't considered cheating. Well, at least to me it isn't! We're just having a little fun and we always treat the women with respect! It never goes any further to anything serious! What the fuck is his problem? That jerkoff!"

Italy shrugged his shoulders and he looked down to his own thighs. He was personally displeased for his brother's choice of words when he spoke of his beloved. "I don't know," he murmured, his eyes still downcast, "perhaps he's afraid of losing me."

Romano was taken aback by Italy's response. He then saw the slight hurtful expression on his brother's face and he realized that he might have gone a little too far insulting Germany. He _really _despised Germany, but he understood how much he meant to Italy. Releasing a sigh, Romano sat himself up and he scooted himself closely to Italy. "H-He has every reason to be worried…about losing you," he nervously mumbled while he reached down and touched his twin's knee, "you're clearly the _greatest_ person that has ever been in his life."

Suddenly, Italy shot his head up and he gawked to his twin. He could not believe what Romano had said to him. His honey brown eyes were beginning to brim with tears as he continued to listen to his brother speak. "You know, I've lost you twice in my life: when we were separated as children and after World War II. It was _hell_ without you. If I couldn't handle your absence, then that Potato Bastard would be absolutely lost without you. I'm sure that he counts his blessings for you every day. God knows I already do that for you."

Italy's trembling lips formed a gleaming smile and a tear escaped from the corner of his left eye. "OH, ROMA!" he emotionally shouted and he suddenly glomped his twin, pushing him flat on his back. "VEEE~! YOU'RE SO WONDERFUL!" Italy proclaimed and he passionately kissed Romano's lips and face.

"WAAAH! S-STOP IT! STTTOOOP!" Romano pathetically screamed as he was being bombarded with kisses. Italy ignored his brother's pleas and he continued to affectionately dote over him. Just when Romano thought things could not get worse, they had drawn the attention of many beach goers. Many of the Italian citizens awed to their brotherly bond. Then, just to add more anxiety for Romano, both Sophia and Gina had returned possessing their gelato ice cream cones.

"Aww! Look at them!" Sophia cooed and both she and Gina started to giggle. Romano gasped by the sight of the beautiful women and he forcefully pushed Italy away from himself. At the same time, Italy grinned to the women and he gestured them to come closer.

"Ve~! Welcome back!" he happily said while he was being pushed away from his twin.

"Chigi! T-This isn't what it looks like!" Romano nervously insisted as he scooted away from Italy's presence.

Both Sofia and Gina eyed one another and looked back to their nations. "There's no need to apologize! What you two were doing was so sweet!" Gina commented.

"That's right!" Sopia concurred, "I've always heard that your love for one another was legendary. I hadn't realized you two were _that _close!"

"We're _not!"_ Romano stressed again, "Mi fratello is just very…very…"

"Affectionate! Ve~!" Italy interjected, finishing his brother's sentence. He then noticed the ladies' gelatos and he stood himself up. "Hey! Do you want me to grab some umbrellas to give you two some shade?"

"Sure! Grazie mille! That's very kind of you!" Sophia answered. As soon as Italy walked over to grab a beach umbrella not being used, Romano scurried to his feet and he rushed behind his brother to retrieve the next vacant beach umbrella. Together, they chivalrously carried the umbrellas over to their settled spot and they positioned them in place. The umbrellas gave plenty of shade for the two nations and the women and they huddled together beneath them to cool off.

* * *

Spain and Germany watched their partners interacting with the two women down at the beach. Both men were displeased by what they were witnessing. Spain especially was upset over Romano's involvement with the women, despite the fact that he was remaining platonic toward them the entire time. "I can't believe this!" Spain cried, folding his arms, "I can't believe he'd be pulling this shit behind my back! I hate it when he flirts with women!"

"I'm not quite fond of it, either," Germany concurred, his stare fixated on Italy, "I've told him repeatedly never to do this. I know that his flirting never goes any further than giving nice compliments or perhaps an offering of a drink. But it still intimidates me. Feli knows how I feel about this and he's promised me he'd stop doing it when we're together…that's just it! I'm not with him right now! Well, technically _I am_…he just doesn't know it."

Spain looked over to his friend and sighed. "I've never told Lovi how I felt about this. I figured that somehow he'd see on his own that it bothered me. I guess I'm too good at masking my negativity from him. And you're right – it _is _just harmless flirtation. But sometimes, when I observe Lovi around the opposite sex, he just seems so…content. He's shown more public affection for a pretty woman than he has ever done for me all the years we've been together. Sometimes I think he'd be better off with a lady friend. Did you know that as long as we've been together, he's _never_ held my hand in public?

"I could understand why he would avoid hand-holding in the past; homosexuality wasn't accepted at all in Europe. But now the world is changing and mankind is becoming more accepting. There's no excuse for us to not hold hands in public anymore! If I could just hold his hand…what I would give for that moment to happen to us…"

Germany had no idea how to respond to Spain. He felt genuinely bad for him and he wanted to give him some advice, but he was not the type to be good at giving comfort for others. He tried to muster up anything supportive to say to his friend. Instead all he could say was an apology. "I'm sorry, Ant."

Spain shrugged his shoulders and he forced himself to smile. "Eh, it's just the way things are," he murmured. Then he turned his gaze back to the Italy Brothers on the beach. For a while, nothing else was said between the two nations. During their silence, Germany thought about all the countless times that Italy gave him public affection and never realizing until now that he was not appreciating what he shared with his partner. He was feeling grateful now for Italy's affectionate ways.

Suddenly, Spain began to unbutton his short-sleeved shirt. Germany made a double take when he realized that his friend was taking off his clothes. "W-What the hell are you doing?!" he gasped.

"What does it look like? I'm getting naked!" Spain exclaimed and he threw his shirt onto the ground. "I'm heading down to the beach! I want to get a little closer to our lovelies and see what they're up to."

"Are you nuts?! That's way too risky for you to do! What if you get noticed by them?!"

"I won't! I'll blend in with the rest of the beach goers! I'll be back!"

"Wait! Don't go – SCHEIßE!" Germany shouted in disgust as Spain accidently tossed his shorts onto his face. Before he could stop him, Spain made a mad dash down the hillside toward the entrance to the nude beach. Germany was left all alone at the top of the hill with his friend's clothes lying on the ground. All he could do now was remain were he was and surveillance Spain from afar. He hoped that his friend would remain unnoticed by the Italy Brothers and that their cover would not be blown.

* * *

"You got that trash bagged up, man?" asked one of the cooks inside the kitchen of a restaurant. He impatiently stood by the side kitchen exit waiting for the trash bags to be given to him so he could step outside and toss them in the dumpster.

A heavyset middle age man waddled up to the cook holding up two overly stuffed trash bags. "Here you are! It's all yours!" he said and he handed them over to the cook.

"Good. I want to get rid of this now before we open up for the dinner hours," said the cook as he gripped the trash bags. "I wonder if we'll have a big turnout with the tourists? Maybe if we push the special tonight – what the hell?!" the cook abruptly cried as he tried opening the door. He then dropped the trash bags onto the floor and he gripped the doorknob. He tried pushing the door open, but it was no use. "What gives?! The door's stuck!" he exclaimed.

The heavyset man rolled his dark eyes and he stepped up to the door. "You're just weak, that's all! Here, let me try," he said and he reached over and gripped the doorknob. He tried his best to open the door himself, but it refused to do this for him as well. "This ain't right! _Something _must be barricading the door from the _outside!" _Then, both he and the cook rushed out of the kitchen and through the dining area of the restaurant. As they exited from the front entrance, they made a right and walked around to the alleyway. To their astonishment, there was now a large military vehicle parked in the alley. It was none other than the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen and it was blocking the back kitchen exit of the restaurant.

Both men gawked to the vehicle and then to each other. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" shouted the cook as he gestured to the vehicle.

"THIS IS BULLSHIT! WHO THE HELL PARKS IN AN ALLEYWAY?!" shouted the other man.

"IT'S THESE DAMN TOURISTS, I TELL YOU! THEY THINK THEY CAN DO ANYTHING! IF THEY WEREN'T OUR LIVELIHOOD EVERY SUMMER, I'D BANISH THEM OUT OF OUR TOWN!"

"Hey! Hey! Keep it down!" cried the heavyset man as he gestured to the large herd of tourists walking past them. Both he and the cook nervously smiled to them and hoped that somehow they had not understood them in their language. They looked back to the military vehicle again and fathomed as to how the driver was able to park in such a cramped spot.

"What are we going to do about this?" asked the heavyset man.

"There's only one thing we can do – _call the cops!"_ answered the cook and he started to walk back into the restaurant.

* * *

Spain entered the beach and became rather suave around those he passed, trying his best to remain casual while covering up his nervousness. He smiled to some of the sunbathers who acknowledged his presence as he made his way to where the Italy Brothers were located on the shore. As he tried blending in with the naked crowd, he also ended up standing out to others due to his luscious, firm ass catching the eye of many of the sunbathers. Many women and a few men lusted over the nation and one woman was bold enough to reach over and _pinch _one of his butt cheeks.

"¡Ay!" Spain yelped and he looked back to the pretty woman. He blushed profusely and he smiled down to her. "Eh-heh! Hi there!" he shyly greeted.

"Ciao!" the woman answered. She patted her hand to an open area next to her and she winked. "Care you join me?" she asked.

Spain blushed profusely and she quickly shook his head. "N-No, gracias…I-I gotta go over there!" he answered, pointing to where the Italy Brothers' location. He then clumsily continued walking over to that area. When he finally got there, he positioned himself to be hidden behind the umbrellas so he would remain unseen. He then grabbed a random beach blanket that was left on the sand, laid it out and he laid himself down on top of it, lying on his stomach. He was just close enough to listen in on the Italy Brothers' conversations with Gina and Sofia. Although Spain was unable to understand Italian, he was able to see what they were doing by watching their shadowed silhouettes through the umbrellas.

The Italy Brothers and the two women were sitting closely together, yet they remained strictly platonic with one another. Gina and Sofia slowly licked up their melting gelato and they engaged in conversation with their nations. Suddenly, Sofia raised her right arm and pointed outward to the ocean. "Do you see that fishing boat out there?" she asked.

Both Italy and Romano looked over to the old fishing boat. "Si! I see it!" answered Italy. Romano acknowledged it by nodding his head.

Sofia smiled to the nations and she took another lick of her gelato. "That's my family's fishing boat! My father and brothers are fishermen! We sell our daily catch at the farmers' market!"

"Nice!" Romano exclaimed, "What an honorable profession. Do you go fishing with them?"

"Nah, I'm not allowed. It's bad luck for a woman to be on a ship. You know how our superstitions go, eh Sud Italia? However, I do go to the marketplace with my mama to help her with sales. In fact, I'll need to be going soon…it looks like my Papi's getting ready to sail back to the docks."

Gina sighed and she lovingly interlocked her arm with Sofia's. "Must you go? We're having a good time together right here!" she whined.

Sofia smiled to her friend and she nodded. "I'm afraid so. They'll need my help carrying the catch back to market."

"Ve~, would you like us to help you out?" Italy asked, gesturing to himself and his brother.

Sofia blushed by the sudden offer and she nervously giggled. "Oh, no! That's all right! I couldn't ask that from you guys…you're both so prestigious – "

"That doesn't mean anything," Romano interrupted, "We're glad to help!"

Sofia giggled again and she stood herself up. "Grazie mille! You're both very kind!" she softly complimented and she ate up the rest of her ice cream cone.

"Prego!" (You're welcome!) Italy answered and his pale cheeks flushed. Then, both he and Romano stood themselves up. They grabbed their shorts and slipped them on. They decided to remain shirtless due to the humidity of the afternoon sun. Sofia slipped on her shorts and then tied a bikini top onto her chest. As she tied the back of her bikini, she looked over to Gina. "Would you like to join us?" she asked.

Hauling fish was the last thing Gina had on her mind. But if by doing this she would still be in close proximity to Romano, then it was worth it. "Sure. I'll join you guys," she answered, standing herself up. After she slipped on her short skirt and tied her bikini top around her chest, she, Sofia and the two nations gathered their things and began their trek over to the fishing docks.

Spain watched them leaving the beach. He remained lying down on the beach towel as he witnessed everything. "I wonder where they're going?" he asked himself. Then, suddenly, Romano stopped walking and he cocked his head to look back to Spain's direction. Spain immediately hid his face from him and pretended to be sunbathing. _'I hope he doesn't come this way!' _he thought.

Romano stared to the lying figure. He had felt as if this certain individual was watching him. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary except for one distinguishable asset to the man – his ass. This man's ass seemed way too familiar to the nation. Could somebody else in the world also possess a succulent backside as his beloved Spain? Or could it be that this individual was actually Spain _himself?_

Romano gawked to the lying sunbather and shook his head. "No…it _couldn't_ be," he uttered. Just as he was about to walk further up to the sunbather, Italy caught him off guard by gripping his hand.

"C'mon, fratello!" Italy exclaimed and he tugged on Romano's arm. Romano resisted his brother's pull and he gestured him to come closer. "Veneziano…doesn't that guy over there look…familiar to you?" he questioned.

Italy looked over to the sunbather and he shrugged his shoulders. "Who do you think it is?"

Romano became hesitant and he quickly changed the subject. Perhaps he_ was_ just imagining things, he thought. "Never mind. Lets go," he said and they both proceeded to walk away.

Spain remained face down on the beach towel for a few minutes. When he felt that it was safe to look up again, he did so but with extreme caution. When he looked up, he saw the Italy Brothers at a distance with the two women; they were all standing together at the fishing docks. Both Italy and Romano were then introduced by a couple of men getting out of their boat and they passionately greeted one another.

"I wonder who they are? They all seem to be getting along so well," Spain said to himself. He stood himself up and he brushed off any bits of sand off of his body. He decided that if he were to know exactly what was going on, he would have to pursue them. Spain did not want to venture out by himself and he decided to go back up the hillside to tell Germany of his idea. When Spain looked back to the top of the cliff side, he had expected his friend still standing at his exact spot.

Instead, Germany was nowhere to be seen. "Where'd he go?!" he cried and the nation rushed out of the nude beach.

* * *

"NEIN! NEIN! PLEASE DON'T DO THIS! DON'T TOW HER AWAY! I-I'LL PAY THE FINE RIGHT NOW! JUST PLEASE UNHOOK MY VEHICLE!" Germany desperately pleaded to the Italian police as they were hooking up the Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen to the end of a tow truck. This dramatic situation caught the attention of many of the tourists and they stood around to witness everything unfolding. The Scillian residents, however, averted their stares away from the police and they hurried their pace away from the scene. This alone was an indication to Germany that their police force was _corrupt._

The police chief stopped watching his men hook up Germany's military vehicle and he turned around to confront the nation. He was a tall, lean man in his late forties with peppered, wavy hair and sharp, tanned features. He was a very arrogant man and he had no limitations to the power he possessed upon others. The police chief stepped up to Germany and gave him an intimidating scowl. "Are you telling me what to do?" he asked.

Germany hesitantly answered to the police chief in a calm, yet nervous tone. "Nein! I'm not…except…all I wanted to do was pay my fine now – "

"That's not going to happen," the police chief interrupted, pointing his index finger to the nation, "I'm taking possession of your vehicle and dragging it to my lot. We can make a deal afterwards at the precinct. There's no way in Hell I'm just going to allow you to worm your way out of my grip in the public eye. Oh no, we're not done here."

"Officer, _please," _Germany begged, "It was a mistake for me to park in the alleyway! I never wanted to park there! It was my friend who convinced me to do it – "

"Your _friend? _Just where exactly is this _friend _of yours? All I see in front of me is you."

"H-He went down to the beach! He's been there for a while – "

"LUDWIG! WHAT'S GOING ON?!" Spain shouted from afar as he ran up the hillside. Suddenly, the tourists gasped in shock when they saw the nation heading up to them completely naked. The police officers looked back Spain and they angrily screamed at him.

"STOP RIGHT THERE!"

"FREEZE! DON'T GET ANY CLOSER!"

"PUT YOUR HANDS UP!"

Spain stopped in front of Germany and the police chief and he raised his arms upward. Germany heavily sighed at the sight of his nude friend and his heart felt heavy inside his chest cavity. He timidly looked to the police chief who was now busying himself writing inside a small notepad.

"Let me guess…you're giving us _another _violation," Germany dejectedly said.

The police officer briefly looked to the nation and he nodded. "You bet your sweet ass I am!" he hissed as he continued writing on his notepad.

"Oh, c'mon, officer!" Spain suddenly cried, "What have I done to deserve a ticket?"

The police officer glared to Spain and he shoved his notepad inside the front pocket to his uniform. "What do you think?! You're _naked _in a residential zone!"

"No! No, you've got it all wrong, officer! You see, I just came back from the nude beach – "

"Then why didn't you put your clothes back on?!"

"Uh, well…eh-heh," Spain nervously chuckled and he eyed Germany, "I seemed to have misplaced my clothes."

"Officer, if I may," Germany begged and gestured over to where he once stood at the cliff side, "my friend's clothes are right over there. If I could step over there and retrieve them on his behalf – "

"You mean to tell me that he took his clothes off _up here_ and _then_ descended down the hillside naked?!" the police chief fumed, casting his glare upon both nations. He then pulled out his notepad again and opened it, turning to a fresh new page. "Here's _another _violation for you!" he callously said.

Spain was distraught by what the police chief was doing and he spoke against it, which made their situation become even worse. "Oh, c'mon! That's _stupid!"_

Suddenly, the police chief stopped writing in his notepad. He stared at Spain with a terrible grimace and he tapped the end of his pen upon the nation's chest as he threatened him. _"Did you just call me stupid?"_ he hissed.

"What?! No! Of course not! I mean, what you're doing right now…by writing that new violation is – "

"Stupid?" the police chief asked, finishing Spain's sentence. "Let me tell you something, asshole! What I'm doing right now is defending the law! The very laws that both you and this chump here have decided to break! By saying what I'm doing is _stupid _is an insult not only to the law, but also to me. For you see, boys…I _am _the law in this town." After the police chief spoke, his entourage stepped away from the tow truck and crowed behind their boss.

Germany cowardly complied with the Italian police and he did nothing else to provoke them. Spain, however, refused to let things settle so easily and he insisted upon getting his clothes back. "Could I at least put my clothes back on?" he asked with an attitude.

"No," the police chief cold answered, "Not until I'm finished with my paperwork."

"B-But everyone's staring at me! It's making me rather uncomfortable – "

"You should have thought of that before taking your clothes off _up _the hillside," the police chief sarcastically uttered as he wrote in his notepad. Spain became very agitated by the whole situation. As much as he wanted to comply alongside Germany, he was not able to do this. He wanted his clothes back. If it meant retrieving them himself and thus being granted another violation ticket, then it was fine by him. All he cared about right now was his dignity.

Spain turned around and began to walk over to where his clothes were lying on the ground. The police chief made a double take and he angrily shouted to the nation. "HEY! GET BACK HERE!" he demanded, but Spain refused to obey him. The police chief shoved his note pad inside his pocket again and he rushed over to Spain. "DON'T YOU _DARE _WALK AWAY FROM ME!" he screamed, reaching out and gripping hard onto Spain's forearm. He then pulled him roughly toward himself, twisting his balance in the process.

"OW! LET GO OF ME – GAAAH!" Spain shouted as he suddenly lost his balance and accidentally hitting the police chief in the face with his hand. Both men crashed onto the ground on top of each other. Germany was horrified by what just played out and the police officers gawked in surprise. When Spain positioned himself up in sitting position, he gasped when he noticed the bloody nose that the police chief now possessed.

"I-I'm sorry! It was an accident!" Spain yelped.

The police chief stood himself up. Then, he touched his bloodied nose and he ominously stared to Spain. _"You just assaulted me!" _he cried.

"What?! No! No, I didn't! It was an accident – " Suddenly, Spain was given a swift punch in the face by the police chief. The other police officers joined in and they began to maliciously beat up the nation. They then dragged him to the police van and forced him to go inside.

"YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR BRUTALLY ASSAULTING A POLICE OFFICER!" one of the policemen screamed. Meanwhile, the police chief walked over to Germany and he forcefully gripped him by the collar of his shirt. Germany was visibly upset by what was happening to his friend. He saw everything with his own eyes and he angrily protested against Spain's arrest.

"LET HIM GO! IT _WAS _AN ACCIDENT! HE LOST HIS BALANCE – "

"Listen up, motherfucker," the police chief sharply said to the nation, "I'm taking both your vehicle and your _Spic_ friend back to the precinct. If you want either of them back _and _to have all the charges against you dropped, you'll have to come up with a _ransom."_

Germany nervously gulped and then he spoke. "H-How much are we t-talking about?" he asked.

The police chief looked straight into his eyes and he flatly answered him. "50,000 Euros." (50,000€ = roughly $66,612 US)

"WHAT?!" Germany cried, becoming aghast by the huge sum of money, "B-BUT THAT'S TOO MUCH! – "

"And that's my final offer. Either you comply and raise the funds, or I get to impound your vehicle and sell it at auction. I'll also relocate your Spic friend over to _general population. _You don't want me to send him to prison, do you?"

"OF COURSE NOT!"

"Good," the police chief uttered. Then, he released his hold on Germany's collar, only to grip the bottom of his shirt and raising it upward, having the audacity to wipe his bloodied nose with it. Afterwards, he let go of the shirt and he reached into his own pant pocket. The police chief pulled out a business card and handed it over to Germany. "Here's the address to the precinct. You have twenty-four hours to give me the money."

Germany nervously held the business card in his hand. Finally, the police chief leaned closely to him and gave him one last words of advice to him. _"Don't fuck with me," _he warned and he turned around and walked away. The police officers got into their vehicles and turned on the engines. They also turned on their sirens to warn everyone to get out of their way. They sped away down the street, followed by the tow truck pulling Gretchen back to the precinct.

Germany despairingly looked around for a bank. He had enough funds in his account to withdraw, but he had no idea where to go. He was so upset for Spain's well-being and he felt ill for what he had to physically endure by the police. He felt so vulnerable being left alone. He had no ways of communicating with anyone around him. Not wanting to waste any more precious time, the nation began to wander around the neighborhood.

"I have to hurry! Ant needs me!" he frantically uttered to himself.

* * *

"Wow! This was your biggest catch so far, you guys!" Sofia exclaimed as she carried a large bucket filled to the brim with fish. Her father and brothers were distributing the pile of fish into multiple buckets and Sofia, Gina and the Italy Brothers were assisting them in carrying them back to the house.

"We're going to make a ton of money!" Sofia's father happily said as he tossed some fish into a bucket.

One of Sofia's brothers chuckled while he grabbed another empty bucket. "And we'll be eating nothing but fish for the rest of the week!" he teased.

"Hey!" his father interjected and he looked over to his grown son, "Fish is good for you! It's full of Omega-3 fatty acid! It's good for your health, so quit complaining!" he light-heartedly said.

"Fish is also packed with _mercury, _Papi," his other son mentioned while wiped the sweat off of his brow.

The father shrugged his shoulders and gestured his hands with annoyance. "So what?! We've been eating this our whole lives and we're still standing! Don't give me that!" he exclaimed and then continued his chore.

Everyone laughed to the father's comments. Both Italy and Romano then grabbed two buckets filled with fish off the dock and they walked together toward Sofia's house. Everything was going well and neither one seemed to struggle carrying the heavy weight of the buckets. But then, suddenly, Romano stopped walking and he lost his gripping on the buckets. The buckets toppled over and the fish spilled all around him.

"Roma! What's the matter?!" Italy cried, settling his own buckets on the dock.

Romano was beginning to feel physically sick. He felt as if could hurl any moment and his heart ached inside his chest. Without knowing it, he was sensing Spain's pain while he was being assaulted by the police officers up at the cliff side. Romano could not explain what he was feeling, but with each blow that inflicted Spain, Romano also felt onto himself. He suddenly went on his knees, fearing that he could retch at any given time.

_"I-I don't know…I-I feel…terrible…"_ Romano gasped, bringing his head between his knees.

"Mio Dio! Roma! It's okay! I'm here for you!" Italy exclaimed as he knelt down by his brother's side. Suddenly Gina, Sofia and her family noticed their nations' in need and they all rushed over to assist them.

"What happened?!" cried Sofia's father.

"Roma's not feeling well!" Italy cried while he gently petted his brother's back.

Gina's brown eyes watered up by the sight of her beloved nation succumbing to illness. "Do you suppose he's having a _heat stroke? _He's been exposed to the sun for many hours!" she suggested.

Sofia's father knelt down and he slowly lifted Romano up in standing position. Italy assisted as well and both men held Romano up. "Lets get him back inside the house! The rest of you finish up gathering the fish!" he ordered. Then, both he and Italy walked in unison, carrying Romano away from the fishing dock.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter 17**

"Here, fratello, this should cool you off," Italy tenderly said as he laid a damp, folded hand towel upon Romano's forehead. Romano was resting on a queen-sized bed inside the bedroom of Sofia's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Russo. Italy was sitting in a wooden chair by the side of the bed, looking over his brother with great concern. He was worried that his twin may have experienced a heat stroke after all and he wanted to take him to the hospital. But Romano had insisted that doing this was unnecessary and so he remained at the residence.

Romano's dull eyes looked up to the ceiling fan and he watched it propelling at the highest speed. The coolness of the air blowing down upon his face felt refreshing, but it was not enough to take away the jitteriness of his nerves after the painful, mysterious sensations he endured earlier at the fishing dock. He had a nagging sensation haunting the back of his head and in the gut of his belly. For some reason, during the pain he felt, the first thing that came across the nation's mind was his partner, Spain. He did not understand why, though, but somehow the negativity that Romano experienced must have had something to do with him.

_ "He…he needs me…"_ Romano whispered and he closed his eyes.

"Who needs you, sweetheart?" Italy curiously asked and he reached down to hold his brother's left hand.

_"My Toni…he's in trouble!" _Romano answered and he squeezed his brother's hand.

Italy gave a puzzling stare to his brother and he shook his head. "I-I don't understand, Roma. What makes you think he's in trouble?"

Romano slowly opened his eyes and he looked to Italy. He then spoke to him, raising the volume of his voice. "I…I don't know. I can't explain myself…except…somehow I _know_ something is wrong with him. I can just _feel _it."

Italy could not respond to his brother's revelation. He found it hard to believe that any harm was being inflicted upon Spain. He decided for Romano's sake to drop the subject so that he would not become any more upset. "Close your eyes and try to rest," he said.

Romano shook his head and he frowned. "Not until I know that Toni is okay. Give me my cellphone, Veneziano. I wish to give him a call," he insisted.

"That isn't necessary right now. Spain isn't in any trouble – "

"How the _fuck _do you know that he's safe?!" Romano suddenly interrupted and he glared to his brother.

Italy returned the expression and he frowned back to Romano. "How do_ you_ know that he's in danger?!" he cried.

"I just _know, okay?!"_ Romano yelled and he pulled his hand away from Italy's hand and he began gesturing them, expressing his frustration over the matter. "Just give me my cellphone so I can call Toni, for fuck's sake!"

"Roma, calm down – "

"Fuck you! Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Roma, please – "

"Give me the Goddamn phone!" Romano angrily cried and he slammed his fisted hands onto the mattress.

Italy sighed and he gestured his hands in a passive manner. "All right! All right! I'll get it for you!" he exclaimed and he stood up from his seat. He walked over to one corner of the bedroom where their things were sitting on a table. He looked inside their yellow beach bag and he pulled out Romano's smartphone. He then walked back to the bedside, sat down on his chair again and he handed the smartphone over to his brother. "Here you go," he said.

Romano roughly grabbed the smartphone out of Italy's hands and he immediately brought up Spain's number and dialed it. He waited for his beloved to answer his call. After a minute of waiting, however, Spain did not pick up his call and instead he was being transferred to his voicemail. Romano's toasted olive complexion changed into a pallor shade and his hands began to shake. "H-He's not answering!" he cried and he dialed the number again.

"That doesn't mean anything!" stressed Italy.

"Yes, it does! Something's not right!" Romano nervously uttered as his call was being transferred to voicemail again.

"Perhaps his cellphone is on silent or maybe he can't hear it because he's in a noisy environment! For all we know, he could be hanging out with Germany today!"

"Then call that Potato Bastard of yours to confirm this! Go on! Get your damn phone!" hissed Romano. Italy complied and he stood up again and walked over to the table where their things were sitting. He retrieved his smartphone and he dialed Germany's phone number. When his call went to voicemail, however, Italy remained rational and he calmly spoke to his brother.

"He's not answering, either," he uttered and he ended the call.

Romano sat himself up and he stared to his brother in complete panic. "SEE?! I TOLD YOU! SOMETHING'S WRONG! WHY AREN'T THEY ANSWERING OUR CALLS?!" he desperately shouted aloud.

"Keep your voice down, Roma!" Italy gasped and he rushed over to his brother's side. He leaned over Romano and he gently brought him back to lie down upon the bed again. "It doesn't mean anything! They're fine, fratello! Please don't worry anymore! You're going to make yourself sick again!"

"B-BUT VENEZIANO – "

"Shhh…not another word," Italy cooed and he tenderly stroked Romano's dark tresses. He then sat himself back down onto his chair. He continued to dote over his brother, trying his best to have him become relaxed. Romano stopped voicing his concerns about Spain's well being, but he was still trembling with nervousness. While his brother was doing his best in comforting him, Mrs. Russo came up to the entrance of her own bedroom, holding a tray with two large glasses of cool ice lemonade. She gently knocked on the door, announcing her presence to them.

"Is everything okay?" she asked out of concern.

Italy turned to her direction and he smiled. "Yes, Signora! I'm sorry if we may have disturbed you," he said as he stood up from his chair.

Mrs. Russo smiled to her nation as he stepped up to her. "It's quite all right. I've brought some lemonade for you and South Italy."

"Oh, thanks! That was thoughtful of you!" exclaimed Italy and he took the glasses off of the tray. He sipped on his drink through the straw while he walked back to Romano's side, handing him his glass to enjoy. Romano sat himself up and he grabbed the extra pillows on his right side and propped them behind his back, bringing himself to lie up at a comfortable angle. He finally started to drink his lemonade, chugging it quickly down his throat.

Mrs. Russo smiled to Romano and she stepped up a little closer. "How are you feeling, dear?" she motherly asked.

Romano gasped for breath after finishing up his lemonade. Afterwards, he smiled to Mrs. Russo while settling the now empty glass on the nightstand. "I-I'm starting to feel a little better. Thanks the lemonade, Signora. It's _very _refreshing," he answered.

Mrs. Russo observed her nation's body language and she noticed right away that he was slightly trembling. "Are you sure you're okay, South Italy? You're shaking up a bit. Perhaps I should call for an ambulance for you – "

"Oh, no, Signora! That isn't necessary. Grazie mille," Romano gently said to Mrs. Russo.

"Are you sure? You were _very _ill when you were being dragged inside the house – "

"I assure you, Signora, that I don't need to go to the hospital. I should revive soon and Veneziano and I will get going."

"Oh! That isn't what I was implying!" Mrs. Russo exclaimed, "You two can stay here as long as you like! I don't want you to leave right away if you're not ready! You two gentlemen honor my family and my home with your presence! In fact, I'd love to have you stay for dinner tonight! I'll cook whatever your hearts desire!"

Italy and Romano glanced to one another and then back to Mrs. Russo. "That's very kind of you, Signora," said Romano, "but…you see – "

"We wouldn't want to impose on your family's regular evening routine," Italy interrupted on his brother's behalf.

Mrs. Russo softly laughed and she shook her head. "You could never impose on us! You're _family _to us! You know this!" she answered.

Italy grinned and he nodded in agreement. "You're right, Signora. Grazie mille. We'll be glad to stay for dinner."

"Grazie, Signora, for your hospitality," Romano concurred. He then closed his eyes and sighed as he rested his head back onto the pillows. He was still experiencing bouts of anxiety and his trembling had not subsided. Italy turned to his side and he gently caressed his brother's face.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I-I'm fine…really, I am," Romano stubbornly, yet weakly answered, his eyes remaining closed. Italy leaned in and he gave his brother a kiss upon his forehead. Then, he grabbed his empty glass and he walked up to Mrs. Russo. As he handed the glass back to her, they both stepped outside of the bedroom and they spoke to one another in hushed tones.

_ "Signora, I hope you don't find me brash for requesting this, but please don't tell anyone that we're here. My brother and I love to visit with our people, but today isn't good for him – "_

_ "I completely understand, North Italy," _Mrs. Russo gently asserted and she placed her hand upon Italy's left shoulder, _"I won't tell a soul and I'll be sure to tell the rest of my family and Sofia's friend to remain silent."_

_ "Grazie mille. I really appreciate it."_

_ "You're very welcome, dear. Is there anything else that you both may need? Would you like something to eat? I have a loaf of rosemary Focaccia topped with sundried tomatoes and olive oil. It'll be something good to munch on while I prepare for dinner."_

_ "That would be wonderful! Grazie!" _Italy softly exclaimed. He then turned himself around and he was about to walk back into the bedroom. But when he saw his brother languishing in bed, he turned around to speak with Mrs. Russo again. _"Signora, may I ask another favor from you?" _he asked.

_"Of course you may," _responded Mrs. Russo and she smiled to her nation.

_"May I please borrow your rosary? I wish to pray to Our Lady to help my brother get better."_

_ "Absolutely! I'll bring it to you!" _exclaimed Mrs. Russo and she hurried herself through the hallway. Italy turned around and he stepped back inside the bedroom. He sat himself in his chair and he reached over and tenderly clasped Romano's hand with his own. He silently watched his brother subsiding into unconsciousness while he began to caress his hand. Doing this seemed to help Romano's trembling and it diminished somewhat from the comforting touch of his brother's strokes.

Mrs. Russo returned to the bedroom carrying her tray with the sliced loaf of Focaccia on it. She also laid out her opal stone-beaded rosary on the tray. She settled the tray by a nearby table and she picked up her rosary. She then quietly walked over to Italy and handed it over to him. She looked upon Romano and she sympathetically reached over and touched his forearm. Finally, she turned around and exited the room.

Italy's left hand continued to caress Romano's hand while he used his right hand to maneuver the rosary. His fingertips gripped the crossed end of the rosary and he made the Sign of the Cross, raising his right arm to make this holy gesture. Then, he began to recite aloud the Apostle's Creed for his brother in a quiet tone.

_"I believe in God, the Father Almighty, maker of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord…"_

* * *

Germany ran down the street leading toward where the police precinct was located. He had successfully dealt with the local bank in inquiring his personal assets and he obtained a cashier's check worth 50,000 Euros to give to the police chief. When he finally arrived to the police station, he opened the door and hurried inside.

When Germany entered the precinct, he immediately noticed Spain standing inside an individual jail cell. He was still naked only because the corrupt police officers relished in humiliating him in this way. Spain's face and body exhibited signs of his violent physical assault, from his blackened eyes, to his busted lip and the numerous bruises coming out from his face, arms, chest and legs. He did not exhibit his trademark grin but instead a despairing expression on his face. When Spain saw that Germany had returned, he tightly gripped his hands onto the steel bars of his cell and he looked on to his friend.

Germany was furious by how Spain was cruelly mistreated. When he got up to the police chief's desk, he slammed the cashier's check on its surface and he pointed directly to it. "There! You have your money! Now release my friend and give my vehicle back to me!" he angrily exclaimed.

The police chief picked up the cashier's check and he carefully examined it. He then placed it back down and he folded his arms. He slowly rocked up and down his leather bound seat and he glared toward Germany's direction. He then looked to either side of himself to his entourage who were sitting alongside him, exchanging glances with them. Germany was beginning to lose his patience with the police chief and he raised his voice to him in a ferocious tone.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! UNLOCK THE JAIL CELL! GIVE MY FRIEND HIS CLOTHES BACK! JUST LET HIM GO AND WE'LL BE ON OUR WAY!"

The police chief suddenly stopped rocking his chair. He sat motionless and he stared directly in Germany's eyes. _"No," _he coldly answered.

"WHAT?! B-BUT WHY?! I'VE GIVEN YOU WHAT YOU WANTED!" Germany gasped in sheer panic. He then glanced over to Spain whom had become downcast by this turn of events.

"You're right. You fulfilled your deed in giving me the money. But now I wish to add _something else _to the tab," the police chief murmured. He then eyed Germany's watch and then looked back to the nation's face. "The _watch – _hand it over," he ordered.

"WHAT?!" Germany cried and he covered his watch over with his right hand. "NEIN! I WON'T GIVE IT TO YOU! WE HAD A DEAL AND I DID MY PART! NOW LET ANTONIO OUT OF HIS CELL!"

"You're getting on my last nerve! You don't seem to understand how things work around here. This is _my _precinct. I can do whatever I want in regards to your disposition and you have no choice but to _comply. _Now hand over the fucking watch or else I send your Spic friend into general population. What's it going to be?"

Germany timidly stood still. He was not sure whether or not to believe in the police chief's threats. He looked over to Spain and he could see his pleading expression on his face. _'Just give him the watch!' _was what got from his friend through his body language alone. But Germany was becoming selfish; he did not want to part with his watch. It was just no ordinary watch; it was given to him by Italy for his birthday many years ago. He cherished it dearly and was sickened to think of giving it up to the thug police chief.

The police chief glare turned into a scowl. When Germany refused to cave in to his will, he snapped his fingers once and pointed to the jail cell. "SEND HIM TO 'GENERAL POPULATION!'" he yelled and his officers obeyed and walked over to the jail cell. As they unlocked the cell and roughly handled Spain, Germany quickly unlatched his watch and threw it on desk.

"THERE! TAKE THE GODDAMN WATCH!" he screamed.

The police chief picked up the watch and he examined it. He then looked back up to Germany and his expression became smug. "Bravo! I'm glad that you've finally decided to see things _my way!" _he sarcastically said. He then handed the watch over an officer sitting next to him. "Appraise this," he told him and the officer nodded.

"Hmm…well, it's designer. Gucci. It looks like its made from stainless steel…and there are diamonds studded on the face of the watch, Chief," the officer concluded and he handed the watch back to him.

The police chief looked at the watch and studied its handsome appearance. His eyes averted up to Germany and he arched an eyebrow. "Fancy watch. What _else _do you got?" he asked.

"N-Nothing! That's all I have!" Germany cried.

"I find that hard to believe. You're in possession of a diamond studded watch and a retro military vehicle. You come off as _very_ _eccentric _to me – "

"Woah! Hey, Chief! Take a look at _this!" _cried one of the police officers as he firmly grabbed Spain's left wrist. The police chief leaned at an angle to see what the officer was pointing out. It turned out that he had discovered Spain's antique Roman ring. "This looks authentic, Chief! This don't look like no costume jewelry!"

"Bring it to me," uttered the police chief. The officer nodded and he tried to pry off the ring from Spain's finger, but the nation became desperately upset and he tried to pull away from the officer's grip.

"NO! YOU CAN'T TAKE IT! IT'S MINE, DAMN IT!" he shrieked.

"SHUT UP!" shouted the officer and he forcefully pulled off the ring. Spain let out a mournful yelp and he started tugging on the bars of his cell.

"NO! NOT MY RING! I'LL GIVE YOU ANYTHING! I'LL EVEN GIVE YOU MY PERSONAL BANK ACCOUNT NUMBER! JUST PLEASE GIVE ME BACK MY RING! PLEASE!"

The police officer handed the precious ring to the police chief. The police chief carefully examined it and he became astonished over it. "I…I think this _is _authentic!" he gasped. He then glared over to Spain and then to Germany with great suspicion. "Where did you get this ring?" he asked.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHERE I GOT IT! IT'S MINE AND I WANT IT BACK!" Spain furiously screamed to the police chief.

Germany grimaced to the police chief and he formed his hands into fists. "You wouldn't be doing this to us if you realized how important we are to the world!" he exclaimed.

"What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" hissed the police chief, arching an eyebrow to the nation.

"I'm Ludwig Beilschmidt, the personification of Germany! And he's Antonio Carriedo, the personification of Spain!" Germany frantically uttered.

The police chief let out an obnoxious laugh and he shook his head. "Yeah, right! And I'm Padre Pio!" he sarcastically jeered. Then, he did the one thing that Spain was dreading that he would do – he slipped his ring onto his finger, taking full possession of it for himself.

"NO! NO! TAKE IT OFF! TAKE IT OFF, DAMN YOU!" screamed Spain.

The police chief rolled his eyes and he snapped his fingers. "Give him his clothes and get him out of here! I'm getting sick of his presence!" he ordered. The officers nodded and one of the men gathered up Spain's clothes and sandals. When the other officers unlocked the jail cell, they threw his things at him and ordered him to get dressed. Spain did just that and when he was finally clothed, he was painfully grabbed by the forearms and forced to walk over and stand next to Germany.

Germany let out a growl when he noticed the extent of Spain's injuries close up. "Why did you do this to him?! He didn't deserve this! You bastards!" he cried.

"Get the hell out of here! I'm through with you two idiots!" cried the police chief and he pointed to the exit of his facility. Germany reluctantly obeyed and he turned around. The police officers let go of their hold of Spain's forearms and they walked over to stand behind their boss. As the nations slowly walked to the exit, the police chief spoke. "Oh, and by the way," he uttered as he grabbed and held up the cashier's check, "grazie mille for giving us our _bonuses!" _He and his entourage then busted out into harmonious laughter.

Germany grimaced once again and he walked out of the precinct. Spain, however, remained standing inside. He turned out and slowly walked back to the police chief's desk. As he stood in front of the desk, his bloodshot emerald eyes stared intently to _his _ring that the police chief now wore on his hand. He could not leave without getting his ring back. It was too valuable and sentimental for him to lose forever.

_"Please…please give my ring back to me," _Spain emotionally pleaded and his eyes watered up.

The police officers and their boss looked to one another and scoffed to the nation. "Get lost, asshole, before I change my mind and throw you back inside the jail cell again!" the police chief warned.

Spain's sorrowful expression immediately disappeared. His bullies had enraged him and he decided that he needed to take action to retrieve his ring back as well as Germany's watch. "I SAID GIVE IT BACK!" he screamed and he reached over and grabbed the police chief by the collar of his uniform. Spain extended his right arm back and was about to punch the police chief in the face, but he was suddenly confronted with multiple handguns being drawn and pointed at him by the other police officers.

"LET GO OF HIM OR ELSE WE SHOOT YOU DEAD!" shouted one officer as he took off the safety of his gun.

Suddenly, Germany rushed back inside the precinct when he overheard the commotion and he forcefully pulled Spain away from the police chief. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?! LET HIM GO! LET GO, I SAY!" Germany screamed.

"NO! I WANT MY RING BACK!" Spain fervently insisted and his grip tightened.

"LET GO, ANT! VERDAMNT!" Germany screamed again and he violently pulled Spain away, loosening his grasp on the police chief's collar. The police chief ominously glared to the nations.

"You've just made a _big mistake," _he threatened, "get the fuck out of Scilla now before we slaughter you both like pigs!"

"W-We're going! We're going! C'mon, Ant – I said c'mon!" Germany cowardly uttered and he forcefully pulled Spain out of the precinct. When they walked into the parking lot to claim Gretchen, Germany shoved Spain against the vehicle and he ferociously scolded him for what he had done. "WHAT THE _FUCK _IS YOUR PROBLEM?! WHY'D YOU DO THAT BACK THERE?! YOU COULD HAVE GOTTEN US BOTH _KILLED!"_

Spain did not utter a response to Germany. He could notbring himself to speak; he was too numb to react to his friend's rage. All he could think about was the loss of his special ring – _his wedding ring _to Romano. Spain was absolutely devastated by this tremendous loss. He was so lost within his own thoughts that he completely ignored Germany's demanding shouts to get into his vehicle.

"C'MON! GET THE HELL INSIDE THE CAR! WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?!" Germany angrily insisted. When Spain continued to ignore his commands, he reached over and forcefully nudged him by the shoulder. "HEY! I SAID GET IN HERE!" he screamed. Spain reluctantly obeyed and he slowly entered the vehicle. Germany's patience however was drawing way too thin and he began to speed out of the parking lot with the passenger side door still ajar. Spain quickly reached over and slammed it closed.

* * *

** One Hour Later**

"Hey, I think we're getting a fax," said one of the police officers and he gestured over to the machine. The officers looked over to the fax machine, but nobody wanted to get up and retrieve the newly received message. Everyone was too lazy to do anything, especially after all the excitement they encountered with Germany and Spain. When the fax completed its task, the police chief yelled an order from another room.

"GO CHECK WHAT IT SAYS!" he shouted.

One of the officers sighed and stood up from his chair, volunteering to grab the faxed message. He walked over to the machine and picked up the warm piece of paper. When he examined it, his eyes widened up in sheer surprise and he quickly ran into the other room. "You're not going to believe this, Chief!" he cried.

"What are you rambling about?" the police chief rudely asked while he was admiring Spain's Roman antiqued ring adorning his right hand.

"You know those two assholes we had here earlier? Well, take a look at _this!" _cried the police officer and he held up the fax. It was a Wanted poster with two composite sketches of Germany and Spain's faces. "This came from the precinct in Bagno a Ripoli."

The police chief gestured to have the officer come forward. The officer did so and he handed the paper to his boss. The police chief studied the two composite sketches and noticed right away their likeness to the two men they had cruelly taken advantage of earlier. He then noticed another photograph and he suddenly gasped. It was an image of Germany's bullet-riddled car, The Volkswagen Type 82 Kübelwagen, taken off from Tumblr. His eyes manically read the message inscribed on the Wanted poster describing the crimes they had committed.

"I can't fucking believe this!" he angrily cried and he slammed the paper onto his desk. "We just _had them!_ We had them _right here _and we've let them go!" He then stood himself up and he rushed over to a window. He manically pulled up the blinds and he looked out for any sign of the nations' presence. "I didn't even bother to check their identifications! Who the fuck were they?!"

"Remember what one of them said? He claimed that they were Germany and Spain," answered the police officer.

The police chief turned around and glared to the officer. "They are _not _Germany and Spain!" he exclaimed.

"B-But Chief…he said that they were – "

"It's bullshit! They're clearly _look-alikes!_ Why the hell would Germany and Spain come to a hick seaport town like Scilla in the first place?! There's _nothing _here for them! And this car! Look at this car!" the police chief cried and he picked up the faxed message, "What kind of political figure drives a vehicle like this?! Let alone a vehicle that's _scarred _with bullets?!"

"I-I don't know!" the officer nervously responded and he physically began to tremble with anxiety. "W-What are we going to do, Chief?"

The police chief pondered for a moment on what to do next. When an idea came to him, he snapped his fingers. "Call the precinct in Bagno a Ripoli and tell their boss that we've just encountered them. Then, I want you to call the news media about this situation. Let them know of my _terrible assault. _Their violent behaviour will catch their attention and all of Italy will learn about these dangerous men!"

The officer's trembling subsided and he nodded. "Right!" he cried and he hurried out of the room to get to his desk.

* * *

Germany was speeding up the highway and he was carelessly zigzagging around slower drivers as he made his frantic getaway out of Southern Italy. While he was focusing on the road, he was continuing to callously scold Spain and complain about their dreadful situation. "I _told_ you we shouldn't have gone into South Italy! I _knew _something bad was going to happen to us! And did you listen to me?! No! We're fortunate to be alive right now! What you did to that police chief was stupid! _Absolutely stupid!"_

Spain did not respond to anything that Germany was saying to him. In fact, he had not spoken a word since they left the precinct in Scilia. His head hung low and his stare was fixated on the ring finger to his left hand. He was still too numb and too shocked to truly react to the loss of his dear possession. Meanwhile, Germany continued to ramble on about his own personal misfortunes. "Fifty Thousand Euros! Fifty Thousand! That's a large sum I've depleted out of my savings! I hope that isn't money I'll need in the future! You haven't even _thanked me _for bailing you out! _You're welcome, you ungrateful bastard!" _

Silence.

"Are you even listening to me?! Do you even care what I went through to get your sorry ass out of jail?! I swear to God you could be so fucking selfish!"

Silence.

"Will you fucking say something?! Or am I to continue having a conversation with myself?!"

Suddenly, Spain's shoulders began to tremble. His cheeks flushed deeply and his emerald colored eyes were overflowing with tears. He finally broke his silence in a gentle murmur, his eyes averting down to look at his left hand. _"M-My…my ring…my ring…" _was all he could get himself to say.

Germany rolled his eyes and he violently slammed his hands upon the steering wheel. "Not_ this_ again! Get over it! You don't see _me_ whining over losing my watch! But then again, that's something that revolves around me and clearly you don't give a shit about that!" he bitterly fumed.

Spain slowly cocked his head to look at Germany. His tears began to spill down his bruised cheeks and his lips trembled as he spoke. "Y-You don't un-understand, Ludwig…my ring…it's…it's..."

"It's gone. Get over it. You're never going to see it again, just like I'll never see my watch again. Just stop it, Ant!" Germany callously interrupted, shooting a glare to his friend. His lack of compassion trigged Spain's emotions and he instantly began to sob profusely in front of him. Witnessing Spain's grief made Germany's stomach tightened with anxiety and he nervously told him to stop it while he purposely focused on the road.

"Don't do this, Ant. Crying will get you nowhere. P-Please…please stop it."

"B-But my ring – "

"Just let it go!"

"I-I won't! I-I can't! My ring…my ring…" Spain briefly gulped down his emotions and then continued finishing his sentence, raising his voice in a distressed tone. "That bastard's wearing my _wedding ring!" _he exclaimed and his sobbing increased after giving his confession.

"Well, I'm sure you can get a replacement – WHAT?!" Germany shrieked and he suddenly slammed on the brakes. His tires made high-pitch screech as the vehicle dragged to a stop, leaving permanent skid marks onto the pavement. The traffic behind the nations abruptly came to a halt and many of the drivers angrily honked their car horns and veered around them while shouting profanities at their direction. Germany and Spain ignored everything around them and they just focused on each other. Before Spain was given the chance to explain himself, Germany motioned him to be quiet and he maneuvered his vehicle off the road.

He drove through an open meadow, heading into a secluded location away from the busy highway. Whether or not what he was doing was legal did not matter to the nation. All he wanted was a quiet environment so Spain could be able to collect himself. When he came across a wooded area, he slowly drove underneath a towering Oleander tree which gave them sufficient shading from the bright, hot sun. Finally, he parked his vehicle and he turned off the engine.

Germany shifted himself to look directly at his friend. Spain's sobbing had not subsided at all and his body was physically shaking with a combination of sorrow and rage. Germany pitied him so much; he wanted to console him with same amount of comfort as Spain had given him last Sunday at Saló, but he was not naturally the type to express this well. Instead, he reached over and he grabbed Spain's hand as gently as he possibly could. He shyly began to caress it, mimicking the technique that Italy had done for him countless of times.

"P-Please…don't cry, Ant," he nervously murmured. Spain's sobbing slightly diminished, but he was still clearly upset over the loss of his ring. Germany decided to inquire what had been shared with him earlier on the road. "D-Did I hear correctly when you said…that you lost your…_your wedding ring?"_

"Mm-hmm," Spain softly moaned and he nodded his head. Germany was absolutely stunned by this revelation and he innocently inquired more details on the subject matter.

"W-Who are you married to?" he asked.

Spain frowned to his friend and he scoffed. "To _Romano! _Who else?!" he blubbered.

"Y-You mean…you two are _married?! _T-This whole time?! B-But when did you two have the ceremony?! I don't recall Feli attending a wedding involving you guys!"

"T-That's because he wasn't there…it was a _long time ago."_

Germany gave Spain a puzzling glance. "How long ago are we talking about?" he questioned.

"Late 17th Century…1682 to be exact," Spain emotionally answered. He then pulled away his left hand from Germany's touch and held it up for him to examine, pointing out the fair flesh that went around the base of his left ring finger. "I've _never _taken that ring off! _Ever! _See here? See how pale this part of my skin is compared to the rest of my hand? That ring has stayed on my finger ever since Romano slipped it on 330 years ago! I swear to God that it's true! I swear it!"

"I-I believe you, Ant! I really do," Germany timidly said. He was feeling very overwhelmed by this unseen disclosure of his friend's private life. As much as he knew that it was not his business to pry, the nation could not help but inquire even more details about the secret marriage. "How did you and Romano get married? Especially back then…I mean, who agreed to marry you both?" he stammered, trying his best to word his question correctly.

Spain shook his head and he sniffled. _"Nobody," _he admitted and his shoulders began to tremor, "W-We broke into a church late one night…and we exchanged our vows on our own…it was just the two of us…with God as our witness. W-We've never told anyone what we've done. Gilbert doesn't know…Francis doesn't know…not even Veneziano is aware about anything."

"But why? Why didn't you share this with your friends?"

"Are you kidding me?! We _couldn't _say anything about it! Believe me, we wanted to, especially Lovi in regards to his brother. But Veneziano has loose lips…we were afraid he'd tell everybody…and there would have been implications for our so-called _blasphemous act…_

"Why, the Inquisition would have tortured us both, tried us in a public court and they would have burned us at the stake…or hung us by the nearest tree! We _couldn't _tell anybody! Truth is…there really isn't any reason to share this with anyone…because it wasn't a real wedding…we're not _really _married…it's just all sentimental – "

"You're wrong," Germany sternly uttered and he placed his hand onto Spain's trembling shoulder, "Your marriage _is _real. It's real to both you and Romano…and it's also real to me. What you guys did wasn't an act of foolishness. You both love each other and you've stood by your vows all these years…all these _centuries! _If that isn't a marriage, then I don't know what is! There are so many people in the world who are fighting for the dignity of marriage in their lives. What you and Romano did was a true testimony of love and devotion."

Spain dramatically blubbered and he placed his right hand upon his face as he let out a strained sob. _"It's true! W-We love each other very much! I-I know how Lovi may be seem so cold and reserved around me in front of others…but when we're together in private…he's so wonderful to me! He truly loves me…he's my life…and my heart! We may have ours ups and downs sometimes, but who hasn't experienced that? But we wouldn't change anything! W-We're so happy together!" _

Germany's throat tightened up as he listened to Spain's emotional words. He felt the courage within himself to fully embrace his friend in his arms and when he did so, Spain buried his face upon his chest and his sobbing became louder and desperate. Germany gently consoled him by rubbing his hand up and down his back and whispering gently to calm him down.

_"Don't cry, Ant…I'm here for you…"_

Suddenly, Spain's body let out a shudder when he came to an abrupt revelation and he looked up to Germany. "What am I going to do?! H-How am I going to explain my appearance to Lovi when he sees me tonight?! And the ring – oh, God! The ring! It belonged to him! It was his _grandfather's_ ring! It was a part of his inheritance! He's going to kill me when he finds out that I don't have it anymore!" he dreadfully uttered and his embrace tightened around Germany's waistline.

Germany pondered to himself what could be done in regards to the ring. When an idea came up, he decided to share with Spain about his suggestion. "I think I know what you could do to get your ring back," he said, trailing off in his sentence. Spain abruptly stopped crying and he looked up to his friend with tremendous hope.

"Y-You do?! How?! Tell me, Ludwig!" he desperately pleaded with a tinge of hopeful excitement to his tone of voice.

Germany's body tensed up a bit and he timidly looked to Spain. "I don't think you're going to like what I'm about to suggest," he admitted.

"Oh, c'mon, man! Tell me! Don't hold back on me now!" pleaded Spain. Germany closed his eyes and he expressed a sigh. Then, he opened his eyes and he stared directly at Spain with total seriousness.

"Tell _Romano_ what happened," he said.

Suddenly, Spain unclasped his embrace around Germany and he forcefully shoved him away from himself. He glared from the sheer thought of telling Romano what had really happened to him. "Boy, you sure are _stupid!"_ he bluntly exclaimed, "If I do that, then he'll know we've been spying on him and Veneziano! How's that going to make us look?!"

"But he's an important figure in South Italy. For crying out loud, he _is _South Italy! For all we know, he could be the residing Don of that corrupt precinct! He could get your ring back! Those cops will loyally comply to any of his demands!" Germany stubbornly insisted and he folded his arms.

Spain scoffed at Germany's opinion and he shook his head. "Yeah, right! He'll get my ring back and _keep it _for himself! I'll end up losing the ring _and _him! He'd never forgive me for spying on him!" He then became rather agitated and he suddenly slammed his fisted hand upon the vehicle's dashboard. "God! What the hell are we doing here?! We've been pursuing them for weeks and we still haven't seen their so-called 'family!' Maybe…maybe there _isn't _a family after all! What if this whole time we've been going through a wild goose chase for _nothing?"_

"And what if we're not? You and I have always assumed they were seeing somebody every Sunday. Remember what you shared with me last time? You said yourself that Italy accidentally blurted out to you about seeing _his family! _They have to be out there somewhere!"

"Well, then where the hell are they?! Because for the past month all we've witnessed is them visiting different parts of their country and only being amongst _strangers!_ Even today, all they were doing was sunbathing at a nude beach! I saw no _family reunion_ happening down there! We're fools, Ludwig! We're fucking fools! I…I don't want to do this anymore! I'm done!"

Germany was taken aback by Spain's declaration of withdrawing from pursuing the Italy Brothers anymore. "W-What?!" he gasped in disbelief.

"You heard me! I want out! I'm through with this shit!" Spain angrily blurted out.

"But Ant," Germany slowly murmured, "There's so much more we could discover together – "

"I don't care! I don't want to discover anything else anymore, especially with_ you!" _Spain cried out of frustration and he casted a glare toward the nation's direction. "I'm so _sick_ and _tired_ of having you verbally abusing me and putting me down! As always, everything is my fault! Why must you be so cruel to me?! Especially after what I've went through?!"

"Ant…I – "

"And how could you ever think of me as an _ingrate?!_ How dare you insult my character this way! You should have just left me in that precinct! I would have been better off in general population than to withstand any more of your cold hearted comments!" Spain's swollen eyes watered up profusely with fresh tears as he finished his remarks to Germany.

"I have so much _love_ for you, Ludwig. You're a dear friend to me. But you can be such a bastard to me sometimes and I'm not taking it anymore! Despite my love for you and our friendship…there are times I've wished I _never_ knew you."

Germany's heart sank into the pit of his stomach after he listened to Spain's confession. It had truly crushed his pride and hurt his feelings tremendously. His thin lips began to tremble and he could feel his eyes moistening up. He turned his stare away from Spain's presence and he looked to the steering wheel of his vehicle. He was becoming numb as melancholy crept up on him. As he slowly reached over and gripped his car keys, he gently muttered a reply to his supposed friend before turning on the ignition.

_"I-I'm sorry, Antonio. I-I don't deserve your friendship."_

Spain stubbornly looked away from Germany as he turned on the ignition. "Just take us back to your house and I'll be on my way," he coldly replied. Germany remained silent as he began maneuvering his vehicle out of the forested area. As they began their drive back through the meadow and toward the highway, Spain carefully cocked his head to catch a quick glimpse of Germany. He had expected to see him with a scowl expressed on his face and muttering incoherent curses to himself in his native language.

Instead, Germany's gaze was focused on his driving. His expression, however, was very upset; his cheeks were deeply blushed and he was silently fighting with himself not to cry. He failed in doing this and his tears began steaming down his face. Spain felt absolutely terrible for making him cry. It broke his heart to see his friend so distraught. He felt an overwhelming sense of regret for the last thing he had said to Germany. He had realized he had gone too far.

Spain wanted to say something consoling for Germany to hear, but he felt too hypocritical to speak anything at this point. So instead, both nations remained absolutely silenced during the whole trek back to Berlin. Not even the car radio was turned on. When Germany would finally pull up to his driveway, Spain quietly got himself out of Gretchen and hurried over to his own vehicle without speaking or making any eye contact. He would leave his friend's property without reconciling, leaving Germany to dwell within his own private purgatory.

* * *

"Toni! I-I'm home! W-Where the hell are you?" called Romano as he stepped through the front entrance of their home and closing the door behind him. He scanned the room for his partner's presence in the first level of their property, but Spain was nowhere to be seen. "TONI! ARE YOU HERE?" he shouted aloud, hoping to hear his beloved's voice call back to him. But there was no response, only silence. This alarmed Romano very much and he decided to check the upper level of the house. He dashed up the spiral staircase and hurried down the hallway of the second level, going straight over to their bedroom. When he stepped inside, he saw Spain sitting on their king-sized bed with his back to him.

"Toni! There you are! W-Why didn't you answer me?" Romano asked with an attitude.

"I-I'm sorry…I-I must've not heard you," Spain nervously lied.

Romano gawked in disbelief over Spain's statement. "That's impossible…you've always heard me before," he stubbornly said. He waited for Spain to acknowledge him by standing up from the bed and giving him one of his overbearing hugs. But instead, the nation remained sitting with his back to him with no explanation for his anti-social behavior.

Romano decided to speak to him kindly and he slowly stepped around the bed to be by his side. "You haven't greeted me, _Spagna," _he uttered and his lips formed a small smile. When he came to face Spain, he suddenly let out a gasp when he saw the traumatic injuries on Spain's face. _"What in the fuck?!"_ he dramatically hissed and he reached over to touch his beloved's face. When he did, however, Spain let out a moan and shuddered from the pain his cheeks had let out when Romano felt him.

Romano's brown eyes moistened up and he became panic-stricken. "Mio Dio! W-What happened to you?! What happened, Toni?!" he cried and he collapsed onto his knees. He waited for Spain to give an explanation for his terrible appearance, but he was not able to say anything to him. Spain did not know _what _to say to him; he knew that he had to make up a fabrication for his injuries, but did not know how to pull it off.

"Toni! Answer me, God damn it! What happened?!" Romano angrily pleaded and he wrapped his arms around Spain's torso. When he did this, however, Spain suddenly yelped and he squirmed out of Romano's embrace by scooting away. Romano abruptly stopped him from moving any further and he timidly unbuttoned his shirt. When he peeled off the garment, exposing his partner's chest, Romano let out another loud gasp when he saw the black and blue bruises spotting Spain's chest, abdomen and forearms.

This immediately triggered memories of himself as a small child waiting upon the arrival of Spain returning from the battlefields. Images of his then boss exhibiting his injuries and his uniform stained with the blood of his victims and the blood of his own flesh burned in his mind. Romano embraced his beloved in his arms again by wrapping them around his torso, just in the same manner as he had done when he was his underling. Unable to withhold his grief any longer, the nation let out a deep, soft moan and he buried his face upon Spain's lap as he began to weep.

_"I-I knew it! I knew you were in trouble! I-I felt it! Somehow, I felt your attack! Y-You needed me and I…I wasn't here for you!" _he cried in a muffled voice. Spain lifted up his right arm and he tenderly placed his hand upon Romano's head. As he began caressing his dark tresses, he solemnly spoke to him.

"T-There was nothing you could have done for me," he said.

"Bullshit!" Romano cried and raised his head up to look up to Spain, "I would have beaten them to a pulp for doing this to you! If I had been here, this wouldn't have happened at all! Why were you attacked, _mi amore? _What provoked this?!"

Spain deeply sighed and he stifled himself from speaking. Romano was growing impatient with him and he made his demands for him to speak about his encounter. "What the fuck happened, Toni?! Tell me!" he cried.

Spain parted his lips and he timidly spoke, thinking of anything at the top of his head to say in regards to his attack. "I…I went out for a jog and I ran into town…and I-I…I was jumped by a couple of men – "

"How many were there?!"

"I-I can't remember – "

"Did you see any of their faces?! Did you call the police?!"

"I-I haven't…I-I can't remember their faces – "

"So what _can _you remember?!" Romano impatiently inquired.

"P-Please don't push me on this! I-I've told you everything!" Spain stammered, averting his stare away from Romano's face.

Romano stared at all of his beloved's injuries and his lips began to tremble. "I-I should take you to the hospital!" he exclaimed.

Spain's swollen, busted lip formed a smirk and he continued caressing his partner's hair again. "T-This is _nothing_ compared to my previous injuries in battle. I'll be fine, Roma. I'm not mortal, tesoro. I can withstand this on my own."

"But Toni – "

"Shhh…I'm fine…really, I am," he gently reassured. Romano's let out an emotional cry as he buried his face upon his lap again. As he wept against him, he reached over to clasp his left hand. Closing his eyes, he caressed his wet face upon Spain's hand and whispered sweet nothings aloud. Finally, he pressed his lips onto one specific area where his partner's wedding ring _should _have been.

Romano's eyes opened when he noticed that his puckered lips were not feeling the old familiar touch of bronze and ruby. He looked down to Spain's hand and gasped in astonishment by its absence. He stared up to his beloved, panic-stricken and overwhelmed with even more bouts of grief. _"Where's the ring?!"_ he begged.

Spain's eyes overflowed with tears. He did not want to tell Romano that he had lost it. He closed his eyes and slowly shook his head, as if trying to get himself to forget everything that had happened. Romano stood himself up and he gently placed his hands upon Spain's shoulders. He urgently petitioned to him the whereabouts of his ring.

"Toni! Where is it?! Where's the ring?!"

Spain emotionally choked and he reluctantly answered, keeping his eyes closed so he could not witness the pained expression on Romano's face. "I-It's gone…t-they stole it from me!" he confessed.

Romano brought his trembling hands away from Spain's shoulders and he covered his own face with them. He let out a sob after knowing the fate of the ring and his knees began buckling. He feared that he could pass out again, just like he had done so back at the fishing port in Scilia. "NO! THEY COULDN'T HAVE!" he desperately shouted.

Spain slowly opened his eyes and he looked up to his distraught partner. "I-I'm sorry, Lovino," he murmured.

Romano brought his hands away from his face. As their eyes met, he began to question more about the situation. "D-Did they take your wallet, too?!"

"No…no, they didn't," answered Spain.

Romano was very puzzled by this revelation. His sorrowful expression diminished and he was beginning to exhibit his trademark scowl. "They took the ring but not your wallet? I don't understand!" he cried.

Spain physically began to tremble and he stammered a response back to him. "I-I don't understand it, either! I-It just happened! They mu-must have seen the value in the ring! I-I don't know for sure!"

"And _you _knew the value of that ring and you let those scumbags take it away! How could you?!" Romano asked; his tone of voice becoming pointed and angry. Spain was startled by his beloved's personality changing so quickly, from being compassionate and despairing to now becoming resentful and cruel.

"W-Why are you turning yourself against me?!" yelped Spain.

"Why?! I'll tell you why, you bastard! That ring belonged to my grandfather! I inherited that ring when he died! It's worth a lot of money! And this alone isn't why I'm upset! It has sentimental value to it, too! I gave you that ring as your wedding band and now…now those asshole posses it and God knows what they'll do to it! Why didn't you fight back when they took the ring?! Why didn't you fight back, for fuck's sake!"

"You think I didn't try, Lovino?! _I did! _I really did try to get it back! B-But I was so weakened by the attack that I struggled to take it away from them!"

"That's fucking bullshit!" Romano hissed, pointing at Spain with his right index finger, "You mean to tell me that you, Antonio Carriedo, who once fought in countless battles for your kingdom on land and sea couldn't take out a couple of street thugs?!"

Spain's started to emotionally choke and he slowly stood himself up. "Yes! That _is _what I'm saying! I'm sorry, Lovino!" he sobbed and he reached over to touch his beloved, but Romano stubbornly pushed him away and he exited the bedroom.

"FUCK YOU!" he screamed down the hallway.

"LOVINO! W-WAIT! DON'T LEAVE ME!" Spain shouted as he limped out of the bedroom. He tried quickening his pace to catch up with Romano. When he did, he tried to embrace him again. He just wanted to be held by him, to be loved over and consoled. Instead, Romano pushed him away once more and he walked further down the hallway, heading up to a door that led into a different room.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!" Romano barked as he turned the doorknob.

"LOVINO! PLEASE! PLEAE COME BACK TO ME!" Spain pathetically wailed as he got to the door. He tried letting himself in, but Romano violently shoved him away and throwing him onto the velvet carpet floor. Finally, he slammed the door shut and locked it from the inside.

Spain struggled to stand himself up. When he was able to get back on his feet, he started pounding his fists against the door and pleading for Romano to unlock it. His pounding suddenly stopped, however, when he overheard the baritone sobs of his lover. Feeling ashamed for making him distressed, Spain backed away from the door. He limped down a different direction of the house, walking up to one room that was decorated specifically for a certain time period: _the Baroque room._

As he entered the room, Spain looked to all the antiqued furniture and artwork that decorated the walls and space of the room. These items had belonged to both him and Romano since they first began their relationship together. When he came up to an antiqued felt chair, Spain sat himself down. He then looked up and stared across the room and his stare fixated on a large oil painting exhibiting himself and Romano standing together, dressed in the finest Baroque fashions and wearing the signature wigs of that time period – long, curly brown hair that reached down to their shoulders.

Spain's stare then fixated on the painted image of his left hand. His eyes watered up profusely when he looked upon the painted image of the ring that he once had – his wedding band. Overcome with melancholy, Spain buried his face into his hands and he began to sob. As he grieved by himself over the loss of his ring, his memories started flooding back to him, recalling that one special evening when they had wedded and when they had consummated their marriage.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I wish to thank everybody who has been reading/reviewing/following this story! I really appreciate it!

I just want to clarify one specific detail regarding the Baroque period because many people get this period mixed up with the Rococo period. The Baroque period did _not _have the white powdered wigs until the 1720's when it was transitioning into the Rococo period. It's the Rococo period that has these types of wigs.

The wigs during the Baroque period were long, curly locks and the fashionable hair color of that period was brown. Think of King Louis XIV of France. That is the Baroque period. If you want to see an excellent example of this period, go on YouTube and watch the film Le Roi Danse (The King is Dancing); it's based on the lives of King Louis XIV and his royal composer Jean-Baptiste Lully.

(*worships* LULLY! THE KING OF FRENCH BAROQUE MUSIC AND THE FOUNDING FATHER OF OPERA! BLESS THEE! *kow-tows*)

If you can tell, I _really _love the Baroque era!

Well, if you've been reading up to this point, then congratulations! We are about to descend into a Spamano flashback in Chapter 18!


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